 8 Lord Dorencourt had occasioned to wear his grim smile many a time as the days passed by. Indeed, as his acquaintance with his grandson progressed, he wore the smile so often that there were moments when it almost lost its grimness. There is no denying that, before Lord Fontleroy had appeared on the scene, the old man had been growing very tired of his loneliness and his gout in his seventy years. After so long a life of excitement and amusement, it was not agreeable to sit alone even in the most splendid room, with one foot on a gout-stool, and with no other diversion than flying into a rage and shouting at a frightened footman who hated the sight of him. The old Earl was too clever a man not to know perfectly well that his servants detested him, and that even if he had visitors they did not come for love of him, though some found a sort of amusement in his sharp, sarcastic talk, which spared no one. So long as he had been strong and well he had gone from one place to another pretending to amuse himself, though he had not really enjoyed it, and when his health began to fail he felt tired of everything and shut himself up at Dorancourt with his gout and his newspapers and his books. But he could not read all the time, and he became more and more bored, as he called it. He hated the long nights and days, and he grew more and more savage and irritable. And then Fontleroy came, and when the Earl saw him, fortunately for the little fellow, the secret pride of the grandfather was gratified at the outset. If Cedric had been a less handsome little fellow the old man might have taken so strong a dislike to him that he would not have given himself the chance to see his grandson's finer qualities. But he chose to think that Cedric's beauty and fearless spirit were the results of the Dorancourt blood and a credit to the Dorancourt rank. And then when he heard the lad talk and saw what a well-bred little fellow he was, notwithstanding his boyish ignorance of all that his new position meant, the old Earl liked his grandson more and actually began to find himself rather entertained. It had amused him to give into those childish hands the power to bestow a benefit on poor Higgins. My Lord cared nothing for poor Higgins, but it pleased him a little to think that his grandson would be talked about by the country people and would begin to be popular with the tenantry, even in his childhood. Then it had gratified him to drive to church with Cedric and to see the excitement and interest caused by the arrival. He knew how the people would speak of the beauty of the little lad, of his fine, strong, straight body, of his erect bearing, his handsome face and his bright hair, and how they would say, as the Earl had heard one woman exclaim to another, that the boy was every inch a lord. My Lord of Dorncourt was an arrogant old man, proud of his name, proud of his rank, and therefore proud to show the world that at last the house of Dorncourt had an heir who was worthy of the position he was to fill. The morning the new pony had been tried, the Earl had been so pleased that he had almost forgotten his gout. When the groom had brought out the pretty creature, which arched its brown glossy neck and tossed its fine head in the sun, the Earl had sat at the open window of the library and had looked on while Fauntleroy took his first riding lesson. He wondered if the boy would show signs of timidity. It was not a very small pony, and he had often seen children lose courage in making their first essay at riding. Fauntleroy mounted in great delight. He had never been on a pony before, and he was in the highest spirits. Wilkins, the groom, led the animal by the bridle up and down before the library window. He's a well-plucked-un, he is, Wilkins remarked in the stable afterward with many grins. It weren't no trouble to put him up. An oldun wouldn't have sat any straighter when he were up. He says, says he to me, Wilkins, he says, am I sitting up straight? They sit up straight at the circus, says he. And I says, as straight as an arrow, your lordship, and he laughs, as pleased as could be, and he says, that's right, he says, you tell me if I don't sit up straight, Wilkins. But sitting up straight, and being led at a walk, were not all together and completely satisfactory. After a few minutes, Fauntleroy spoke to his grandfather, watching him from the window. Can't I go by myself, he asked, and can't I go faster? The boy on Fifth Avenue used to trot and canter. Do you think you could trot and canter, said the earl? I should like to try, answered Fauntleroy. His lordship made a sign to Wilkins, who at the signal brought up his own horse, and mounted it, and took Fauntleroy's pony by the leading rein. Now, said the earl, let him trot. The next few minutes were rather exciting to the small equestrian. He found that trotting was not so easy as walking, and the faster the pony trotted the less easy it was. It jolts a good deal, doesn't it, he said to Wilkins. Does it jolt you? No, my lord, answered Wilkins, you'll get used to it in time. Rise in your stirrups. I'm rising all the time, said Fauntleroy. He was both rising and falling rather uncomfortably, and with many shakes and bounces. He was out of breath, and his face grew red, but he held on with all his might, and sat as straight as he could. The earl could see that from his window. When the riders came back within speaking distance, after they had been hidden by the trees for a few minutes, Fauntleroy's hat was off, his cheeks were like poppies, and his lips were set, but he was still trotting manfully. Stop a minute, said his grandfather, where's your hat? Wilkins touched his. It fell off your lordship, he said, with evident enjoyment. Wouldn't let me stop to pick it up, my lord. Not much afraid, is he, asked the earl dryly. Him, your lordship, exclaimed Wilkins. I shouldn't say as he knowed what it meant. I have taught young gentlemen to ride a four, and I never see one stick on more determiner. Tired, said the earl to Fauntleroy. Want to get off? It jolts you more than you think it will, admitted his young lordship, frankly. And it tires you a little, too, but I don't want to get off, I want to learn how. As soon as I've got my breath I want to go back for the hat. The cleverest person in the world, if he had undertaken to teach Fauntleroy how to please the old man who watched him, could not have taught him anything which would have succeeded better. As the pony trotted off again toward the avenue, a faint colour crept up in the fierce old face, and the eyes, under the shaggy brows, gleamed with a pleasure such as his lordship had scarcely expected to know again. And he sat, and watched quite eagerly, until the sound of the horse's hoofs returned. When they did come, which was after some time, they came at a faster pace. Fauntleroy's hat was still off. Wilkins was carrying it for him. His cheeks were redder than before, and his hair was flying about his ears, but he came at quite a brisk canter. There, he panted as they drew up, I cantered, I didn't do it as well as the boy on Fifth Avenue, but I did it, and I stayed on. He and Wilkins and the pony were close friends after that. Scarcely a day passed in which the country people did not see them out together cantering gaily on the high road or through the green lanes. The children in the cottages would run to the door to look at the proud little brown pony with the gallant little figure sitting so straight in the saddle, and the young lord would snatch off his cap and swing it at them and shout, "'Hello! Good morning!' in a very unlordly manner, though with great heartiness. Sometimes he would stop and talk with the children, and once Wilkins came back to the castle with a story of how Fauntleroy had insisted on dismounting near the village school so that a boy who was lame and tired might ride home on his pony. "'And I'm blessed,' said Wilkins, in telling the story at the stables. "'I'm blessed if he'd hear of anything else. He wouldn't let me get down, because he said the boy might and feel comfortable on a big horse. And says he, Wilkins, says he, that boy's lame and I'm not, and I want to talk to him, too. And up the lad has to get, and my lord trudges alongside of him with his hands in his pockets and his cap on the back of his head, a whistling and talking as easy as you please. And when we come to the cottage, and the boy's mother come out all in a taking to see what's up, he whips off his cap, and says he, "'I've brought your son home, ma'am,' says he, because his leg hurt him, and I don't think that stick is enough for him to lean on, and I'm going to ask my grandfather to have a pair of crutches made for him. And I'm blessed if the woman wasn't struck all of a heap, as well she might be. I thought I should have exploded myself.' When the Earl heard the story he was not angry, as Wilkins had been half-afraid that he would be. On the contrary, he laughed outright, and called Fort LaRoy up to him, and made him tell all about the matter from beginning to end, and then he laughed again. And actually, a few days later, the Dorncourt carriage stopped in the green lane before the cottage where the lame-boy lived, and Fort LaRoy jumped out, and walked up to the door, burying a pair of strong, light, new crutches, shouldered like a gun, and presented them to Mrs. Hartle. The lame-boy's name was Hartle, with these words. "'My grandfather's compliments, and if you please, these are for your boy, and we hope he will get better.' "'I said your compliments,' he explained to the Earl when he returned to the carriage. "'You didn't tell me to, but I thought perhaps you forgot. That was right, wasn't it?' And the Earl laughed again, and did not say it was not. In fact the two were becoming more intimate every day, and every day Fort LaRoy's faith in his lordship's benevolence and virtue increased. He had no doubt whatever that his grandfather was the most amiable and generous of elderly gentlemen. Certainly he himself found his wishes gratified almost before they were uttered, and such gifts and pleasures were lavished upon him, that he was sometimes almost bewildered by his own possessions. Apparently he was to have everything he wanted, and to do everything he wished to do. And though this would certainly not have been a very wise plan to pursue with all small boys, his young lordship bore it amazingly well. Perhaps notwithstanding his sweet nature, he might have been somewhat spoiled by it, if it had not been for the hours he spent with his mother at Court Lodge. That best friend of his watched over him closely and tenderly. The two had many long talks together, and he never went back to the castle with her kisses on his cheeks without carrying in his heart some simple pure words worth remembering. There was one thing it is true which puzzled the little fellow very much. He thought over the mystery of it much oftener than anyone posed. Even his mother did not know how often he pondered on it. The Earl for a long time never suspected that he did so at all. But, being quick to observe, the little boy could not help wondering why it was that his mother and grandfather never seemed to meet. He had noticed that they never did meet. When the door-and-court carriage stopped at Court Lodge, the Earl never alighted, and on the rare occasions of his lordships going to church, Fontleroy was always left to speak to his mother in the porch alone, or perhaps to go home with her. And yet every day fruit and flowers were sent to Court Lodge from the hot houses at the castle. But the one virtuous action of the Earl's which had set him upon the pinnacle of perfection in Cedric's eyes was what he had done soon after that first Sunday when Mrs. Errol had walked home from church unattended. About a week later, when Cedric was going one day to visit his mother, he found at the door, instead of the large carriage and prancing pair, a pretty little broom and a handsome bay horse. "'That is a present from you to your mother,' said the Earl abruptly. "'She cannot go walking about the country. She needs a carriage. The man who drives will take charge of it. It is a present from you.' Fontleroy's delight could but feebly express itself. He could scarcely contain himself until he reached the lodge. His mother was gathering roses in the garden. He flung himself out of the little broom and flew to her. "'Dearest,' he cried, could you believe it, this is yours. He says it is a present from me. It is your own carriage to drive everywhere in.' He was so happy that she did not know what to say. She could not have borne to spoil his pleasure by refusing to accept the gift, even though it came from the man who chose to consider himself her enemy. She was obliged to step into the carriage, roses and all, and let herself be taken to drive, while Fontleroy told her stories of his grandfather's goodness and amyability. There were such innocent stories that sometimes she could not help laughing a little, and then she would draw her little boy closer to her side and kiss him, feeling glad that he could see only good in the old man who had so few friends. The very next day after that Fontleroy wrote to Mr. Hobbes. He wrote quite a long letter, and after the first copy was written he brought it to his grandfather to be inspected. "'Because,' he said, it's so uncertain about the spelling, and if you'll tell me the mistakes I'll write it out again.' This was what he had written. "'My dear Mr. Hobbes, I want to tell you about my grandfather. He is the best earl you ever knew. It is a mistake about earls being tyrants. He is not a tyrant at all. I wish you knew him. You would be good friends. I am sure you would. He has the gout in his foot, and is a great sufferer. But he is so patient. I love him more every day, because no one could help loving an earl like that, who is kind to everyone in this world. I wish you could talk to him. He knows everything in the world. You can ask him any question. But he has never played baseball. He has given me a pony and a cart, and my mama a beautiful carriage, and I have three rooms and toys of all kinds. It would surprise you. You would like the castle and the park? It is such a large castle. You could lose yourself, Wilkins tells me. Wilkins is my groom. He says there is a dungeon under the castle. It is so pretty. Everything in the park would surprise you. There are such big trees, and there are deers, and rabbits, and games flying about in the cover. My grandfather is very rich, but he is not proud and orty, as you thought earls always were. I like to be with him. The people are so polite and kind. They take off their hats to you, and the women make curtsies, and sometimes say God bless you. I can ride now, but at first it shook me when I trotted. My grandfather let a poor man stay on his farm when he could not pay his rent, and Mrs. Mellon went to take wine and things to his sick children. I should like to see you, and I wish dearest could live at the castle, but I am very happy when I don't miss her too much, and I love my grandfather, every one does. Please write soon. Your affectionate old friend," said Rick Errol. P.S., no one is in the dungeon. My grandfather never had any one languishing in there. P.S., he is such a good earl. He reminds me of you. He is a universal favourite. "'Do you miss your mother very much?' asked the earl, when he had finished reading this. "'Yes,' said Fauntleroy, I miss her all the time.' He went and stood before the earl, and put his hand on his knee, looking up at him. "'You don't miss her, do you?' he said. "'I don't know her,' answered his lordship, rather crustily. "'I know that,' said Fauntleroy, and that's what makes me wonder. She told me not to ask you any questions, and I won't, but sometimes I can't help thinking you know, and it makes me all puzzled. But I'm not going to ask any questions. And when I miss her very much, I go and look out of my window to where I see her light shine for me every night through an open place in the trees. It is a long way off, but she puts it in her window as soon as it is dark, and I can see it twinkle far away, and I know what it says. "'What does it say?' asked my lord. "'It says, Good night, God keep you all the night. Just what she used to say when we were together. Every night she used to say that to me, and every morning she said, God bless you all the day. So you see, I am quite safe all the time.' "'Quite, I have no doubt,' said his lordship, dryly. And he drew down his beatling eyebrows, and looked at the little boy so fixedly, and so long, that Fauntleroy wondered what he could be thinking of. End of CHAPTER VIII. CHAPTER IX. The fact was, his lordship, the Earl of Dorncourt, thought in those days, of many things of which he had never thought before, and all his thoughts were in one way or another connected with his grandson. His pride was the strongest part of his nature, and the boy gratified it at every point. Through this pride he began to find a new interest in life. He began to take pleasure in showing his heir to the world. The world had known of his disappointment in his sons, so there was an agreeable touch of triumph in exhibiting this new lord Fauntleroy who could disappoint no one. He wished the child to appreciate his own power, and to understand the splendor of his position. He wished that others should realize it too. He made plans for his future. Sometimes in secret he actually found himself wishing that his own past life had been a better one, and that there had been less in it that this pure childish heart would shrink from if it knew the truth. It was not agreeable to think how the beautiful innocent face would look if its owner should be made by any chance to understand that his grandfather had been called for many a year, the wicked Earl of Dorncourt. The thought even made him feel a trifle nervous. He did not wish the boy to find it out. As in this new interest he forgot his gout, and after a while his doctor was surprised to find his noble patient's health growing better than he had expected it ever would be again. Perhaps the Earl grew better because the time did not pass so slowly for him, and he had something to think of besides his pains and infirmities. One fine morning people were amazed to see little lord Fauntleroy riding his pony with another companion than Wilkins. This new companion rode a tall, powerful grey horse, and was no other than the Earl himself. It was, in fact, Fauntleroy who had suggested this plan. As he had been on the point of mounting his pony he had said rather wistfully to his grandfather, I wish you were going with me. When I go away I feel lonely because you are left all by yourself in such a big castle. I wish you could ride too. And the greatest excitement had been aroused in the stables a few minutes later by the arrival of an order that Selim was to be saddled for the Earl. After that Selim was saddled almost every day, and the people became accustomed to the sight of the tall grey horse carrying the tall grey old man with his handsome, fierce eagle face by the side of the brown pony which bore little lord Fauntleroy. And in their rides together through the green lanes and pretty country roads the two riders became more intimate than ever, and gradually the old man heard a great deal about dearest and her life. As Fauntleroy trotted by the big horse he chatted gaily. There could not well have been a brighter little comrade, his nature was so happy. It was he who talked the most. The Earl often was silent, listening and watching the joyous glowing face. Sometimes he would tell his young companion to set the pony off at a gallop, and when the little fellow dashed off, sitting so straight and fearless, he would watch him with a gleam of pride and pleasure in his eyes. And when, after such a dash, Fauntleroy came back waving his cap with a laughing shout, he always felt that he and his grandfather were very good friends indeed. One thing that the Earl discovered was that his son's wife did not lead an idle life. It was not long before he learned that the poor people knew her very well indeed. When there was sickness or sorrow or poverty in any house the little room often stood before the door. "'Do you know?' said Fauntleroy once. "'They all say, God bless you when they see her, and the children are glad. There are some who go to her house to be taught to sow. She says she feels so rich now that she wants to help the poor ones.' It had not displeased the Earl to find that the mother of his heir had a beautiful young face, and looked as much like a lady as if she had been a duchess, and in one way it did not displease him to know that she was popular and beloved by the poor. And yet he was often conscious of a hard, jealous pang when he saw how she filled her child's heart and how the boy clung to her as his best beloved. The old man would have desired to stand first himself and have no rival. That same morning he drew up his horse on an elevated point of the moor over which they rode, and made a gesture with his whip over the broad, beautiful landscape spread before them. "'Do you know that all that land belongs to me?' he said to Fauntleroy. "'Does it?' answered Fauntleroy. "'How much it is to belong to one person, and how beautiful!' "'Do you know that some day it will all belong to you, that, and a great deal more?' "'To me!' exclaimed Fauntleroy, in rather an awestricken voice. "'When?' "'When I am dead,' his grandfather answered. "'Then I don't want it,' said Fauntleroy. "'I want you to live always.' "'That's kind,' answered the Earl in his dry way. "'Nevertheless, some day it will all be yours. Some day you will be the Earl of Dorincourt.' Little Lord Fauntleroy sat very still in his saddle for a few moments. He looked over the broad moors, the green farms, the beautiful copses, the cottages in the lanes, the pretty village, and over the trees to where the turrets of the great castle rose gray and stately. Then he gave a queer little sigh. "'What are you thinking of?' asked the Earl. "'I am thinking,' replied Fauntleroy, of what a little boy I am, and of what dearest said to me.' "'What was it?' inquired the Earl. She said that perhaps it was not so easy to be very rich, that if any one had so many things always one might sometimes forget that every one else was not so fortunate, and that one who is rich should always be careful and try to remember. I was talking to her about how good you were, and she said that was such a good thing, because an Earl has so much power, and if he cared only about his own pleasure and never thought about the people who lived on his lands, they might have trouble that he could help, and there were so many people, and it would be such a hard thing. And I was just looking at all those houses and thinking how I should have to find out about the people when I was an Earl. How did you find out about them?' Perhaps his lordship's knowledge of his tenantry consisted in finding out which of them paid their rent promptly, and in turning out those who did not, this was a rather hard question. "'Newick finds out for me,' he said, and he pulled his great grey mustache, and looked at his small questioner rather uneasily. "'We will go home now,' he added, and when you are an Earl, see to it that you are a better Earl than I have been.' He was very silent as they rode home. He felt it to be almost incredible that he, who had never really loved any one in his life, should find himself growing so fond of this little fellow, as without doubt he was. At first he had only been pleased and proud of Cedric's beauty and bravery, but there was something more than pride in his feeling now. He laughed a grim dry laugh all to himself sometimes, when he thought how he liked to have the boy near him, how he liked to hear his voice, and how in secret he really wished to be liked and thought well of by his small grandson. "'I'm an old fellow in my dotage, and I have nothing else to think of,' he would say to himself. And yet he knew it was not that altogether. And if he had allowed himself to admit the truth, he would perhaps have found himself obliged to own that the very things which attracted him, in spite of himself, were the qualities he had never possessed, the frank, true, kindly nature, the affectionate trustfulness which could never think evil. It was only about a week after that ride when, after a visit to his mother, Fontleroy came into the library with a troubled, thoughtful face. He sat down in that high-back chair in which he had sat on the evening of his arrival, and for a while he looked at the embers on the hearth. The earl watched him in silence, wondering what was coming. It was evident that Cedric had something on his mind. At last he looked up. "'Does Newick know all about the people?' he asked. "'It is his business to know about them,' said his lordship. "'Bin neglecting it, has he?' Contradictory, as it may seem, there was nothing which entertained and edified him more than the little fellow's interest in his tenantry. He had never taken any interest in them himself, but it pleased him while enough that, with all his childish habits of thought, and in the midst of all his childish amusements and high spirits, there should be such a quaint seriousness working in the curly head. "'There is a place,' said Fontleroy, looking up at him with wide open, horror-stricken eye. "'Dearest has seen it. It is at the other end of the village. The houses are close together and almost falling down. You can scarcely breathe, and the people are so poor, and everything is dreadful. Often they have fever, and the children die, and it makes them wicked to live like that and be so poor and miserable. It is worse than Michael and Bridget. The rain comes in at the roof. Dearest went to see a poor woman who lived there. She would not let me come near her until she had changed all her things. The tears ran down her cheeks when she told me about it. The tears had come into his own eyes, but he smiled through them. "'I told her you didn't know, and I would tell you,' he said. He jumped down and came and leaned against the Earl's chair. "'You can make it all right,' he said, just as you made it all right for Higgins. You always make it all right for everybody. I told her you would, and that Newick must have forgotten to tell you.' The Earl looked down at the hand on his knee. Newick had not forgotten to tell him. In fact, Newick had spoken to him more than once of the desperate condition of the end of the village known as Earl's Court. He knew all about the tumbledown miserable cottages, and the bad drainage, and the damp walls and broken windows and leaking roofs, and all about the poverty, the fever, and the misery. Mr. Mordant had painted it all to him in the strongest words he could use, and his lordship had used violent language in response, and when his gout had been at the worst he said that the sooner the people of Earl's Court died and were buried by the parish, the better it would be, and there was an end of the matter. And yet, as he looked at the small hand on his knee, and from the small hand to the honest, earnest, frank-eyed face, he was actually a little ashamed both of Earl's Court and himself. "'What?' he said, "'You want to make a builder of model cottages of me, do you?' And he positively put his own hand upon the childish one, and stroked it. "'Those must be pulled down,' said Faunt Leroy, with great eagerness. "'Dearest says so. Let us—let us go, and have them pulled down to-morrow. The people will be so glad when they see you—they'll know you have come to help them.' And his eyes shone like stars in his glowing face. The Earl rose from his chair and put his hand on the child's shoulder. "'Let us go out and take our walk on the terrace,' he said, with a short laugh. And we can talk it over.' And though he laughed two or three times again as they walked to and fro on the broad stone terrace, where they walked together almost every fine evening, he seemed to be thinking of something which did not displease him, and still he kept his hand on his small companion's shoulder. CHAPTER X OF LITTLE LORD Faunt Leroy This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. CHAPTER X The truth was that Mrs. Earl had found a great many sad things in the course of her work among the poor of the little village that appeared so picturesque when it was seen from the Moorsides. Everything was not as picturesque when seen nearby as it looked from a distance. She had found idleness and poverty and ignorance where there should have been comfort and industry, and she had discovered after a while that Urbor was considered to be the worst village in that part of the country. Mr. Mordent had told her a great many of his difficulties and discouragements, and she had found out a great deal by herself. The agents who had managed the property had always been chosen to police the Earl, and had cared nothing for the degradation and wretchedness of the poor tenants. Many things therefore had been neglected, which should have been attended to, and matters had gone from bad to worse. As to Earl's court, it was a disgrace with its dilapidated houses and miserable, careless, sickly people. When first Mrs. Earl went to the place, it made her shudder. Such ugliness and slovenliness and want seemed worse in a country place than in a city. It seemed as if there might be help, and as she looked at the squalid, uncared-for children growing up in the midst of vice and brutal indifference, she thought of her own little boy, spending his days in the great, splendid castle, guarded and served like a young prince, having no wish ungradified and knowing nothing but luxury and ease and beauty. An bold thought came in her wise little mother heart. Gradually she had begun to see, as had others, that it had been her boy's good fortune to police the Earl very much, and that he would scarcely be likely to be denied anything for which he expressed a desire. The Earl would give him anything, she said to Mr. Mordent. He would indulge his every whim. Why should not that indulgence be used for the good of others? It is for me to see that this shall come to pass. She knew she could trust the kind childish heart, so she told the little fellow the story of Earl's court, feeling sure that he would speak of it to his grandfather and hoping that some good results would follow. And strange as it appeared to everyone, good results did follow. The fact was that the strongest power to influence the Earl was his grandson's perfect confidence in him. The fact that Cedric always believed that his grandfather was going to do what was right and generous. He could not quite make up his mind to let him discover that he had no inclination to be generous at all, and that he wanted his own way on all occasions, whether it was right or wrong. It was such a novelty to be regarded with admiration as a benefactor of the entire human race and the soul of nobility, that he did not enjoy the idea of looking into the affectionate brown eyes and saying, I am a violent selfish old rascal, I never did a generous thing in my life and I don't care about Earl's court or the poor people, or something which would amount to the same thing. He actually had learned to be fond enough of that small boy with a mop of yellow love locks to feel that he himself would prefer to be guilty of an amiable action now and then. And so, though he laughed at himself, after some reflection he sent for Newick and had quite a long interview with him on the subject of the court. And that was decided that the wretched hovels should be pulled down and new houses should be built. It is Lord Fondleroy who insists on it, he said dryly. He thinks it will improve the property. You can tell the tenants that it's his idea. And he looked down at his small lordship, who was lying on the hearth rug, playing with Dougal. The great Doug was the lad's constant companion and followed him about everywhere, stalking solemnly after him when he walked and trotting majestically behind when he rode overdrove. Of course, both the country people and the town people heard of the proposed improvement. At first, many of them would not believe it. But when a small army of workmen arrived and commenced pulling down the crazy squalid cottages, people began to understand that little Lord Fondleroy had done them a good turn again. And that through his innocent interference, the scandal of Earthcourt had at last been removed. If he had only known how they talked about him and praised him everywhere, and prophesied great things for him when he grew up, how astonished he would have been. But he never suspected it. He lived his simple, happy, child life, frolicking about in the park, chasing the rabbits to their burrows, lying under the trees, on the grass, or on the rug in the library, reading wonderful books and talking to the earl about them, and then telling the stories again to his mother, writing long letters to Dick and Mr. Hobbes who responded in characteristic fashion, writing out at his grandfather's side or with Wilkins as escort. As they rode through the market town, he used to see the people turn and look, and he noticed, as they lifted their hats, their faces often brightened very much. But he thought it was all because his grandfather was with him. They are so fond of you, he once said, looking up at his lordship with a bright smile. Do you see how glad they are when they see you? I hope they will someday be as fond of me. It must be nice to have everybody like you. And he felt quite proud to be the grandson of so greatly admired and beloved and individual. When the cottages were being built, the lad and his grandfather used to ride over to Earl's court together to look at them. And Funtleroy was full of interest. He would dismount from his pony and go and make acquaintance with the workmen, asking them questions about building in Brick Lane and telling them things about America. After two or three such conversations, he was able to enlighten the Earl on the subject of brick making as they rode home. I always like to know about things like those, he said, because you never know what you're coming to. When he left them, the workmen used to talk him over among themselves and laugh at his odd innocent speeches, but they liked him and liked to see him stand among them, talking away with his hands in his pockets, his hat pushed back on his curls and his small face full of eagerness. He's a rare on, they used to say, and a nice little outspoken chap too, not much oath bad stock in him. And they would go home and tell their wives about him and the women would tell each other. And so it came about that almost everyone talked of or knew some story of little Lord Funtleroy and gradually almost everyone knew that the wicked Earl had found something he cared for at last, something which had touched and even warmed his heart bitter old heart. But no one knew quite how much it had been warmed and how day by day the old man found himself caring more and more for the child who was the only creature that had ever trusted him. He found himself looking forward to the time when Cedric would be a young man, strong and beautiful with life all before him, but having still that kind heart and the power to make friends everywhere. And the Earl wondered what the lad would do and how he would use his gifts. Often as he watched the little fellow lying upon the hearth, cunning, some big book, the light shining on the bright young head, his old eyes would gleam and his cheek would flush. The boy can do anything he would say to himself anything. He never spoke to anyone else of his feeling for Cedric. When he spoke of him to others, it was always with the same grim smile. But Fondler I soon knew that his grandfather loved him and always liked him to be near, near to his chair if there were no library, opposite to him a table or by his side when he rode or drove or took his evening walk on the broad terrace. Do you remember, Cedric said once, looking up from his book as he lay on the rug, do you remember what I said to you that first night about our being good companions? I don't think any people could be better companions than we are, do you? We are pretty good companions, I should say, replied his lordship, come here. Fondler I scrambled up and went to him. Is there anything you want? The earl asked, anything you have not? The little fellow's brown eyes fixed themselves on his grandfather with a rather wistful look. Only one thing, he answered, what is that? inquired the earl. Fondler I was silent the second. He had not thought matters over to himself so long for nothing. What is it, my lord repeated. Fondler I answered, it is dearest, he said. The old earl went little, but you see her almost every day, he said, is not that enough? I used to see her all the time, said Fondler I. She used to kiss me when I went to sleep at night and in the morning she was always there and we could tell each other things without waiting. The old eyes and the young ones looked into each other through a moment of silence. Then the earl knitted his brows. Do you never forget about your mother, he said. No, answered Fondler I, never and she never forgets about me. I shouldn't forget about you, you know, if I didn't live with you, I should think about you all the more. Upon my word, said the earl, after looking at him a moment longer, I believe you would. The jealous pang that came when the boy spoke saw of his mother seemed even stronger than it had been before. It was stronger because of this old man's increasing affection for the boy. But it was not long before he had other pangs, so much harder to face that he almost forgot for the time he had ever hated his son's wife at all. And in a strange and startling way, it happened. One evening, just before the earl's court cottages were completed, there was a grand dinner party at Dorin Court. There had not been such a party at the castle for a long time. A few days before it took place, Sir Harry Lorydale and Lady Lorydale, who was the earl's only sister, actually came for a visit. A thing which caused the greatest excitement in the village and said Mrs. Dibble's shop bell tinkling madly again, because it was well known that Lady Lorydale had only been to Dorin Court once since her marriage, 35 years before. She was a handsome old lady with white curls and dimpled peachy cheeks, and she was as good as gold. But she had never approved of her brother any more than did the rest of the world and having a strong will of her own and not being at all afraid to speak her mind frankly, she had, after several lively quarrels with the floorchip, seen very little of him since her young days. She had heard a great deal of him that was not pleasant through the years in which they had been separated. She had heard about his neglect of his wife and of the poor lady's death and of his indifference to his children and of the two weak, vicious, unprepossessing elder boys who had been no credit to him or to anyone else. Those two elder sons, Beavis and Murrays, she had never seen, but once, they had come to Lorydale Park a tall, stalwart, beautiful young fellow about 18 years old who had told her that he was her nephew, Cedric Arrow, and that he had come to see her because he was passing near the place and wished to look at his aunt, Constantia, of whom he had heard his mother speak. Lady Lorydale's kind heart had warmed through and through at the sight of the young man and she had made him stay with her a week and petted him and made much of him and admired him immensely. He was so sweet-tempered, light-hearted, spirited aled that when he went away, she had hoped to see him often again, but she never did because the Earl had been in a bad humor when he went back to Dorincourt and had forbidden him ever to go to Lorydale Park again. But Lady Lorydale had always remembered him tenderly and though she feared he had made a rash marriage in America, she had been very angry when she heard how he had been cast off by his father and that no one really knew where or how he lived. At last there came a rumor of his death and then Beavis had been thrown from his horse and killed and Maurice had died in Rome of the fever and soon after came the story of the American child who was to be found and brought home as Lord Funtleroy. Probably to be ruined as the others were, she said to her husband, unless his mother is good enough and has a will of her own to help her to take care of him. But when she heard that Cedric's mother had been parted from him, she was almost too indignant for words. It is disgraceful, Harry, she said, fancy a child of that age being taken from his mother and made the companion of a man like my brother. He will either be brutal to the boy or indulge him until he's a little monster if I thought it would do any good to write. It wouldn't, Constantia, said Sir Harry. I know it wouldn't, she answered. I know his lordship, the Earl of Dorincourt, too well, but it is outrageous. Not only the poor people and farmers heard about little Lord Funtleroy, others knew him. He was talked about so much and there were so many stories of him, of his beauty, his sweet temper, his popularity and his growing influence over the Earl, his grandfather, the groomers of him reached the gentry at their country places and he was heard of in more than one county of England. People talked about him at the dinner tables. Ladies pitted his young mother and wondered if the boy was handsome as he was said to be and men who knew the Earl and his habits laughed heartily at the stories of the little fellow's belief in his lordship's amiability. Sir Thomas Aschie of Aschaw Hall, being an Earlber one day, met the Earl and his grandson riding together and stopped to shake hands with my lord and congratulate him on his change of looks and on his recovery from the gout. And you know, he said when he spoke of the incident afterward, the old man looked as proud as a turkey cock and upon my word, I don't wonder for a handsomer, finer lad than his grandson I never saw. As straight as a dot and set his pony like a young trooper and so by degrees, Lady Lorydale too heard of the child. She heard about Higgins and the lame boy and the cottages at Orr's Court and a score of other things and she began to wish to see the little fellow and just as she was wondering how it might be brought about to her utter astonishment, she received a letter from her brother inviting her to come with her husband to Dorincourt. It seems incredible, she exclaimed. I've heard it said that the child has worked miracles and I begin to believe it. They say my brother adores the boy and can scarcely endure to have him out of sight and he's so proud of him. Actually, I believe he wants to show him to us and she accepted the invitation at once. When she reached Dorincourt Castle with Sir Harry, it was late in the afternoon and she went to her room at once before seeing her brother. Having dressed for dinner, she entered the drawing room. The Earl was there standing near the fire and looking very tall and imposing and at his sight stood a little boy in black velvet and a large, vendicolor of rich lace, a little fellow whose round bright face was so handsome and who turned upon her such beautiful candid brown eyes that she almost uttered an exclamation of pleasure and surprise at the sight. As she shook hands with the Earl, she called him by the name she had not used since her childhood. What Molly knew she said, is this the child? Yes, Constantia answered the Earl, this is the boy. Fondleroy, this is your grand aunt, Lady Roydale. How do you do, Grand Aunt, said Fondleroy. Lady Roydale put her hand on his shoulders and after looking down into his upraised face a few seconds, kissed him warmly. I'm your aunt, Constantia, she said and I loved your poor papa and you're very like him. It makes me glad when I'm told I'm like him, answered Fondleroy, because it seems as if everyone liked him, just like dearest, exactly. Aunt Constantia, adding the two words after a second's pause, Lady Roydale was delighted. She bent and kissed him again and from that moment they were warm friends. Well, Molinez, she said aside to the Earl afterward, it could not possibly be better than this. I think not, answered his lordship, Draleigh. He's a fine little fellow. We are great friends. He believes me to be the most charming and sweet tempered of philanthropists. I will confess to you, Constantia, as you would find it out if I did not, that I am in some slight danger of becoming rather noteful about him. What does his mother think of you? I asked Lady Roydale with her usual straightforwardness. I have not asked her, answered the Earl, slightly scowling. Well, said Lady Roydale, I will be frank with you at the outset, Molinez, and tell you I don't approve of your course and that it is my intention to call on Mrs. Earl as soon as possible, so. If you wished to quarrel with me, you had better mention it at once. What I hear of the young creature makes me quite sure that her child owes her everything. We were told, even at Lord Dale Park, that your poor tenants adore her already. They adore him, said the Earl, nodding toward Funtler Roy. As to Mrs. Earl, you'll find her a pretty little woman. I'm rather in debt to her for giving some of her beauty to the boy, and you can go to see her if you like. All I ask is that she will remain at Court Lodge and that you will not ask me to go and see her. And he scowled a little again. But he doesn't hate her as much as he used to, that is plain enough to me, her ladyship set to Sir Harry afterward. And he's a changed man in a measure and, incredible as it may seem, Harry, it is my opinion that he's being made into a human being through nothing more nor less than his affection for that innocent, affectionate little fellow. While the child actually loves him, leans on his chair and against his knee. His own children would have soon have thought of nestling up to a tiger. The very next day, she went to call upon Mrs. Earl. When she returned, she said to her brother, Molly Neu, she's the loveliest little woman I ever saw. She has a voice like a silver bell, and you may thank her for making the boy what he is. She has given him more than her beauty, and you make a great mistake in not persuading her to come and take charge of you. I shall invite her to Lorydale. She'll not leave the boy, replied the Earl. I must have the boy too, said Lady Lorydale, laughing. But she knew Lord Fontleroy would not be given up to her, and each day she saw more clearly how closely those two had grown to each other, and how all the proud grim old man's ambition and hope and love centered themselves in the child, and how the warm innocent nature returned his affection with most perfect trust and good faith. She knew too that the prime reason for the great dinner party was the Earl's secret desire to show the world his grandson and heir, and to let people see that the boy, who had been so much spoken of and described, was even a finer little specimen of boyhood than rumor had made him. Beavis and Moorys were such a bitter humiliation to him, she said to her husband, everyone knew it. He actually hated them. His pride has full sway here. Perhaps there was not one person who accepted the invitation without feeling some curiosity about little Lord Fontleroy and wondering if he would be on view. And when the time came, he was on view. The lad has good manners, said the Earl. He will be no one's way. Children are usually idiots or boors, mind were both. But he can actually answer when he's spoken to and be silent when he's not. He's never offensive, but he was not allowed to be silent very long. Everyone had something to say to him. The fact was, they wished to make him talk. The ladies petted him and asked him questions, and the man asked him questions too and joked with him as the man on the steamer had done when he crossed the Atlantic. Fontleroy did not quite understand why they laughed so sometimes when he answered them. But he was so used to seeing people amused when he was quite serious that he did not mind. He thought the whole evening delightful. The magnificent rooms were so brilliant with lights and there were so many flowers. The gentlemen seemed so gay and the ladies were such beautiful, wonderful dresses and such sparkling ornaments in their hair and on their necks. There was one young lady who, he heard them say, had just come down from London where she had spent the season. And she was so charming that he could not keep his eyes from her. She was a rather tall young lady with a proud little head and very soft dark hair and large eyes, the color of purple pansies and the color on her cheeks and lips was like that of a rose. She was dressed in a beautiful white dress and had pearls around her throat. There was one strange thing about this young lady. So many gentlemen stood near her and seemed anxious to please her that Fontleroy thought she must be something like a princess. He was so much interested in her that without knowing it, he drew nearer and nearer to her and at last she turned and spoke to him. Come here, Lord Fontleroy, she said, smiling and tell me why you look at me so. I was thinking how beautiful you are, his young lordship replied. Then all the gentlemen laughed outright and the young lady laughed a little too and the rose color in her cheeks brightened. Ah, Fontleroy, said one of the gentlemen who had laughed most heartily, make the most of your time when you're older. You will not have the courage to say that. But nobody could help saying it, said Fontleroy sweetly. Could you help it? Do you think she's pretty too? We are not allowed to say what we think, said the gentlemen, while the rest laughed more than ever. But the beautiful young lady, her name was Miss Vivian Herbert, put out her hand and drew Cedric to her side, looking prettier than before, if possible. Lord Fontleroy shall say what he thinks, she said. I much obliged to him, I'm sure he thinks what he says and she kissed him on his cheek. I think you're prettier than anyone I ever saw, said Fontleroy, looking at her with innocent, admiring eyes. Except dearest, of course, I couldn't think anyone quite as pretty as dearest. I think she's the prettiest person in the world. I'm sure she is, said Miss Vivian Herbert and she left and kissed his cheek again. She kept him by her side a great part of the evening and the group of which they were the center was very gay. He did not know how it happened, but before long, he was telling them all about America and the Republican rally and Mr. Hopps and Dick. And in the end, he proudly produced, from his pocket, Dick's parting gift, the red silk handkerchief. I put it in my pocket tonight because it was a party, he said. I thought Dick would like me to wear it at a party and queer as the big flaming spotted thing was. There was a serious affectionate look in his eyes which prevented his audience from laughing very much. You see, I like it, he said, because Dick is my friend. But though he was talked to so much, as the Earl had said, he was in no one's way. He could be quiet and listen when others talked and so no one found him tiresome. A slight smile crossed more than one face when several times he went and stood near his grandfather's chair or sat on a stool close to him, watching him and absorbing every word he uttered with the most charmed interest. Once, he stood so near the chair's arm that his cheek touched the Earl's shoulder and his lordship, detecting the general's smile, smiled a little himself. He knew what the lookers on were thinking and he felt some secret amusement in there seeing what good friends he was with this youngster who might have been expected to share the popular opinion of him. Mr. Havisham had been expected to arrive in the afternoon but strange to say he was late. Such a thing had really never been known to happen before during all the years in which he had been a visitor at Dorncourt Castle. He was so late that the guests were on the point of rising to go into dinner when he arrived. When he approached his host, the Earl regarded him with amazement. He looked as if he had been hurried or agitated, his dry keen old face was actually pale. I was detained, he said in a low voice to the Earl by an extraordinary event. It was as unlike the methodical old lawyer to be agitated by anything as it was to be late but it was evident that he had been disturbed. At dinner he ate scarcely anything and two or three times when he was spoken to he started as if his thoughts were far away. At dessert when Fondleroy came in he looked at him more than once, nervously and uneasily. Fondleroy noted the look and wondered at it. He and Mr. Havisham were in friendly terms and they usually exchanged smiles. The lawyer seemed to have forgotten to smile that evening. The fact was he forgot everything but the strange and painful news he knew. He must tell the Earl before the night was over. The strange news which he knew would be so terrible a shock and which would change the face of everything. As he looked about at the splendid rooms and the brilliant company, at the people gathered together he knew more that they might see the bright-haired little fellow near the Earl's chair than for any other reason. As he looked at the proud old man and at little Lord Fondleroy smiling at his side he really felt quite shaken not withstanding that he was a hardened old lawyer. What a blow it was that he must deal them. He did not exactly know how the long the perp dinner ended. He said through it as if he were in a dream and several times he saw the Earl glance at him in surprise. But it was over at last and the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room. They found Fondleroy sitting on the sofa with Miss Vivian Herbert, the great beauty of the last London season. They had been looking at some pictures and he was thanking his companion as the door opened. I'm ever so much obliged to you for being so kind to me, he was saying, I never was at a party before and I've enjoyed myself so much. He had enjoyed himself so much that when the gentlemen gathered about Miss Herbert again and began to talk to her as he listened and tried to understand their laughing speeches, his eyelids began to droop. They drooped until they covered his eyes two or three times and then the sound of Miss Herbert's low pretty laugh would bring him back. And he would open them again for about two seconds. He was quite sure he was not going to sleep, but there was a large yellow satin cushion behind him and his head sank against it and after a while his eyelids drooped for the last time. They did not quite even open when, as it seemed after a long time someone kissed him lightly on the cheek. It was Miss Vivian Herbert who was going away and she spoke to him softly. Good night, little Lord Fondleroy. She said, sleep well. And in the morning he did not know that he tried to open his eyes and had murmured sleepily, good night. I'm so glad. I saw you, you're so pretty. He only had a very faint recollection of hearing the gentleman laugh again and of wondering why they did it. No sooner had the last guest left the room that Mr. Havisham turned from his place by the fire and stepped nearer to the sofa where he stood looking down at the sleeping occupant. Little Lord Fondleroy was taking his ease luxuriously. One leg crossed the other and swung over the edge of the sofa. One arm was flung easily above his head. The warm flush of healthful, happy childish sleep was on his quiet face. His waving tangle of bright hair straight over the yellow satin cushion. He made a picture well worth looking at. As Mr. Havisham looked at it, he put his hand up and rubbed his shaven chin with the heiress' countenance. Well, Havisham said the Earl's harsh voice behind him. What is it? It is evident something has happened. What was the extraordinary event, if I may ask? Mr. Havisham turned from the sofa, still rubbing his chin. It was bad news, he answered. Distressing news, my lord. The worst of news. I'm sorry to be the bearer of it. The Earl had been uneasy for some time during the evening. As he glanced at Mr. Havisham and when he was uneasy, he was always ill-tempered. Why do you look so at the boy? He exclaimed irritably. You have been looking at him all the evening as if. See here now. Why should you look at the boy, Havisham, and hang over him like some bird of ill omen? What has your news to do with Lord Fontleroy? My lord, said Mr. Havisham, I will waste no words. My news has everything to do with Lord Fontleroy. And if we are to believe it, it is not Lord Fontleroy who lies sleeping before us, but only the son of Captain Errol. And the present Lord Fontleroy is the son of your son Beavis and is, at this moment, in the lodging house in London. The Earl clutched the arms of his chair with both his hands until the veins stood out upon them. The veins stood out on his forehead, too. His fierce, old face was almost livid. What do you mean? He cried out, You're mad! Who lies this? If it is a lie, answered Mr. Havisham, it is painfully like the truth. A woman came to my chambers this morning. She said, Your son Beavis married her six years ago in London. She showed me her marriage certificate. They quarreled a year after the marriage and he paid her to keep away from him. She has a son five years old. She is an American of the lower classes, an ignorant person and until lately she did not fully understand what her son could claim. She consulted the lawyer and found out that the boy was really Lord Fondleroy and the heir to the earldom of Dorincourt and she of course insists on his claims being acknowledged. There was a movement of the curly head on the yellow satin cushion. A soft, long, sleepy sigh came from the parted lips and the little boy stirred in his sleep. But not at all, restlessly or uneasily. Not at all, as if his slumber were disturbed by the fact that he was being proved a small imposter and that he was not Lord Fondleroy at all and never would be the earl of Dorincourt. He only turned his rosy face more on its side as if to enable the old man who stared at it so sullenly to see it better. The handsome grim old face was ghastly. A bitter smile fixed itself upon it. I should refuse to believe a word of it, he said. If it were not such a low scoundrelate piece of business that it becomes quite possible in connection with the name of my son Beavis, it is like Beavis. He was always a disgrace to us, always a weak, untruthful, vicious young brood with low tastes. My son and hair Beavis, Lord Fondleroy. The woman is an ignorant, vulgar person, you say. I'm obliged to admit that she can scarcely spell her own name, answered the lawyer. She's absolutely uneducated and openly mercenary. She cares for nothing but the money. She's very handsome in a coarse way, but... The fastidious old lawyer ceased speaking and gave his sword of shutter. The veins on the old earth's forehead stood out like purple quartz. Something else stood out upon it, too, cold drops of moisture. He took out his handkerchief and swept them away. His smile grew even more bitter. And I, he said, I objected to the other woman, the mother of this child, pointing to the sleeping form on the sofa. I refused to recognize her and yet she could spell her own name. I supposed this is retribution. Suddenly he sprang up from his chair and began to walk up and down the room. Fierce and terrible words poured forth from his lips. His rage and hatred and cruel disappointment shook him as a storm shakes a tree. His violence was something dreadful to see and yet Mr. Havisham noticed that at the very worst of his wrath he never seemed to forget the little sleeping figure on the yellow satin cushion and that he never once spoke loud enough to awaken it. I might have known it, he said. They were disgraced to me from their first hour. I hated them both and they hated me. Beavis was the worst of the two. I will not believe this yet, though. I will contend against it to the last. But it is like Beavis. It is like him. And then he raged again and asked questions about the woman about her proofs and pacing the room turned first white and then purple in his repressed fury. When at last he had learned all there was to be told and knew the worst Mr. Havisham looked at him with a feeling of anxiety. He looked broken and haggard, unchanged. His rages had always been bad for him but this one had been worse than the rest because there had been something more than rage in it. He came slowly back to the sofa at last and stood near it. If anyone had told me I could be fond of a child, he said, his harsh voice low and unsteady. I should not have believed him. I always detested children, my own more than the rest and I am fond of this one. He is fond of me with a bitter smile. I am not popular, I never was. But he is fond of me. He never was afraid of me. He always trusted me. He would have filled my place better than I have filled it. I know that. He would have been an honor to the name. He bent down and stood a minute or so looking at the happy sleeping face. His shaggy eyebrows were knitted fiercely and yet somehow he did not seem fierce at all. He put up his hand, pushed the bright hair back from the forehead and then turned away and rang the bell. When the largest footman appeared, he pointed to the sofa. Take, he said, and then his voice changed a little. Take Lord Fauntleroy to his room. When Mr. Hobbes' young friend left him to go to Dorncourt Castle and become Lord Fauntleroy, and the grocery man had time to realize that the Atlantic Ocean lay between himself and the small companion who had spent a long time with him, he had a long life with him. He had a long life with him. He had a long life with him. He had a long life with him. He had a long life with him. When he had spent so many agreeable hours in his society, he really began to feel very lonely indeed. The fact was Mr. Hobbes was not a clever man, nor even a bright one. He was indeed rather a slow and heavy person and he had never made many acquaintances. He was not mentally energetic enough to know how to amuse himself and in truth he never did anything of an entertaining nature but read the newspapers and add up his accounts. It was not very easy for him to add up his accounts and sometimes it took him a long time to bring them out right. And in the old days little Lord Fauntleroy, who had learned how to add up quite nicely with his fingers and a slate and pencil, had sometimes even gone to the length of trying to help him and then too he had been so good a listener and had taken such an interest in what the newspaper said and he and Mr. Hobbes had held such long conversations about the Revolution and the British and the elections and the Republican Party that it was no wonder his going left a blank in the grocery store. At first it seemed to Mr. Hobbes that Cedric was not really far away and would come back again that someday he would look up from his paper and see the little lad standing in the doorway in his white suit and red stockings and with his straw hat on the back of his head and would hear him say in his cheerful little voice, Hello Mr. Hobbes, this is a hot day, isn't it? But as the days passed on and this did not happen, Mr. Hobbes felt very dull and uneasy. He did not even enjoy his newspaper as much as he used to. He would put the paper down on his knee after reading it and sit and stare at the high stool for a long time. There were some marks on the long legs which made him feel quite dejected and melancholy. They were marks made by the heels of the next Earl of Dorancourt where he kicked and talked at the same time. It seems that even youthful earls kicked the legs of things they sit on. Noble blood and lofty linage do not prevent it. After looking at those marks Mr. Hobbes would take out his gold watch and open it and stare at the inscription from his oldest friend Lord Fauntleroy to Mr. Hobbes when this you see remember me. And after staring at it a while he would shut it up with a loud snap and sigh and get up and go and stand in the doorway between the box of potatoes and the barrel of apples and look up the street. At night when the store was closed he would light his pipe and walk slowly along the pavement until he reached the house where Cedric had lived on which there was a sign that read this house to let and he would stop near it and look up and shake his head and puff at his pipe very hard indeed and after a while walk mournfully back again. This went on for two or three weeks before any new idea came to him. Being slow and ponderous it always took him a long time to reach a new idea. As a rule he did not like new ideas but preferred old ones. After two or three weeks however which instead of getting better matters really grew worse a novel plan slowly and deliberately dawned upon him. He would go to see Dick. He smoked a great many pipes before he arrived at this conclusion but finally he did arrive at it. He would go to see Dick. He knew all about Dick, Cedric had told him and his idea was that perhaps Dick might be some comfort to him in the way of talking things over. So one day when Dick was very hard at work doing a customer's boots a short stout man with a heavy face and a bald head stopped on the pavement and stared for two or three minutes at the boot black sign which read Professor Dick Tipton can't be beat. He stared at it so long that Dick began to take a lively interest in him. And when he had put the finishing touch to his customer's boots he said Want a shine, sir? The stout man came forward deliberately and put his foot on the rest. Then when Dick fell to work the stout man looked from Dick to the sign and from the sign to Dick. Where did you get that? he asked. From a friend of mine said, Dick, a little feller. He gave me the whole outfit. He was the best little feller you ever see. He's in England now, gone to be one of them lords. Lord, Lord, asked Mr. Hobbes with ponderous slowness. Lord Fauntleroy, going to be the Earl of Dorancourt? Dick almost dropped his brush. Why, boss, he exclaimed. Do you know him yourself? I've known him, answered Mr. Hobbes, wiping his warm forehead ever since he was born. We was lifetime acquaintances, that's what we was. It really made him quite agitated to speak of it. He pulled the splendid gold watch out of his pocket and opened it and showed the inside of the case to Dick. In this you see, remember me, he read. That was his parting keepsake to me. I don't want you to forget me, those was his words. I'd have remembered him, he went on shaking his head, if he hadn't given me a thing, and I hadn't seen hide nor hair on him again. He was a companion as any man would remember. He was the nicest little feller I ever see, said Dick. And as to sand, I never seen so much sand to a little feller. I thought a heap of him I did, and we was friends too. We was sort of chums from the foost. That little youngen in me, I grabbed his ball from under a stage for him, and he never forgot it. And he'd come down here he would with his mother or his noose, and he'd holler, Hello, Dick, at me as friendly as if he was six feet high, when he wore knee-high to a grass-hopper, and was dressed in gal's clothes. He was a gay little chap. And when you was down on your luck, it did you good to talk to him. That so, said Mr. Hobbes, it was a pity to make a earl out of him. He would have shown in the grocery business, or dry goods, either. He would have shown, and he shook his head with deeper regret than ever. It proved that they had so much to say to each other that it was not possible to say it all at one time. And so it was agreed that the next night Dick should make a visit to the store and keep Mr. Hobbes company. The plan pleased Dick well enough. He had been a street-wave nearly all his life, but he had never been a bad boy, and he had always had a private yearning for a more respectable kind of existence. Since he had been in the business for himself, he had made enough money to enable him to sleep under a roof instead of out in the streets. And he had begun to hope he might reach even a higher plane in time. So to be invited to call in a stout, respectable man who owned a corner store, and had a horse and wagon seem to him quite an event. Do you know anything about earls and castles, Mr. Hobbes inquired? I'd like to know more of the particulars. There's a story about some of them in the penny-story Gazette, said Dick. It's called the crime of a coronet, or the revenge of the Countess May. It's a boss thing, too. Some of us boys are taking it to read. Bring it up when you come, said Mr. Hobbes, and I'll pay for it. Bring all you can find that has any earls in them. If there aren't any earls, Marcusus will do, or Dukes, though he never made any mention of Dukes or Marcuses. We did go over coronets a little, but I never happened to see any. I guess they don't keep them round here. Tiffany'd have them if anybody did, said Dick, but I don't know as I'd know one if I saw it. Mr. Hobbes did not explain that he would not have known one if he saw it. He merely shook his head ponderously. I suppose there is very little call for him, he said, and that ended the matter. This was the beginning of a quite a substantial friendship. When Dick went up to the store, Mr. Hobbes received him with great hospitality. He gave him a chair tilted against the door, near a barrel of apples, and after his young visitor was seated, he made a jerk at them with the hand in which he held his pipe saying, Help yourself! Then he looked at the story papers, and they had read and discussed the British aristocracy, and Mr. Hobbes smoked his pipe very hard and shook his head a great deal. He shook it most when he pointed out the high stool with the marks on its legs. There's his very kicks, he said impressively, his very kicks. I sit and look at them by the hour. This is a world of ups, and it's a world of downs. Why, he'd sit there and eat crackers out of a box and apples out of a barrel, and pitch his cores into the street, and now he's a Lord, a living in a castle. Them is a Lord's kicks. They'll be a Earl's kicks some day. Sometimes I says to myself, says I, Well, I'll be jiggered. He seemed to derive a great deal of comfort from his reflections and Dick's visits. Before Dick went home they had a supper in the small back room. They had crackers and cheese and sardines and other canned things out of the store. And Mr. Hobbes solemnly opened two bottles of ginger ale and pouring out two glasses proposed a toast. Here's to him, he said, lifting his glass, and may he teach him a lesson, Earl's and Marcus's and Duke's and all. After that night the two saw each other often, and Mr. Hobbes was much more comfortable and less desolate. They read the penny-story gazette and many other interesting things and gained a knowledge of the habits of the nobility and gentry which would have surprised those despised classes and realized it. One day Mr. Hobbes made a pilgrimage to a bookstore downtown for the express purpose of adding to their library. He went to the clerk and leaned over the counter to speak to him. I want, he said, a book about Earl's. What, exclaimed the clerk? A book, repeated the grocery man, about Earl's. I'm afraid so the clerk, looking rather queer, that we haven't what you want. Haven't, said Mr. Hobbes anxiously. We'll say Marcus's then, or Duke's. I know of no such book, said the clerk. Mr. Hobbes was much disturbed. He looked down on the floor. Then he looked up. None about female Earl's, he inquired. I'm afraid not, said the clerk, with a smile. Well, exclaimed Mr. Hobbes, I'll be jiggered. He was just going out of the store when the clerk called him back and asked of a story in which the nobility where chief characters would do. Mr. Hobbes said it would if he could get an entire volume devoted to Earl's. So the clerk sold him a book called The Tower of London, written by Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, and he carried it home. When Dick came, they began to read it. It was a very wonderful and exciting book, and the scene was laid in the reign of the famous English queen who was called by some people Bloody Mary. And as Mr. Hobbes heard of Queen Mary's deeds, and the habit she had of chopping people's heads off, putting them to the torture, and burning them alive, he became very much excited. He took his pipe out of his mouth and stared at Dick, and at last he was obliged to mop the perspiration from his brow with his red pocket handkerchief. Well, he ain't safe, he said. He ain't safe. If the women folks can sit up on their thrones and give the word for things like that to be done, who's to know what's happening to him at this very minute? He's no more safe than nothing, just like a woman like that get mad and no one's safe. Well said Dick, though he looked rather anxious himself. You see, this earring isn't the one that's bossing things now. I know her name's Victory, and this one here in the book, her name's Mary. So it is, said Mr. Hobbes, still mopping his forehead, so it is. And the newspapers are not saying anything about any racks, thumb-screws or steak-burnins, but still it doesn't seem as if it was safe for him over there with those queer folks where they tell me they don't keep the Fourth of July. He was privately uneasy for several days and it was not until he received Fontleroy's letter and had read it several times, both to himself and to Dick, and had also read the letter Dick got around the same time that he became composed again. But they both found great pleasure in their letters. They read and reread them and talked them over and enjoyed every word of them. And they spent days over the answers they sent and read them over almost as often as the letters they had received. It was rather a labor for Dick to write his. All his knowledge of reading and writing he had gained during a few months when he had lived with his elder brother and had gone to a night school. But being a sharp boy he had made the most of that brief education and had spelled out things in newspapers since then and practiced writing with bits of chalk and movements or walls or fences. He told Mr. Hobbes all about his life and about his elder brother who had been rather good to him after their mother died when Dick was quite a little fellow. Their father had died some time before. The brother's name was Ben and he had taken care of Dick as well as he could until the boy was old enough to sell newspapers and run errands. They had lived together and as he grew older Ben had managed to get along until he had quite a decent place in a store. And then, exclaimed Dick with disgust, blessed if he didn't go and marry a gal, just went and got spoony and hadn't any more sense left. Married her and set up housekeeping in two back rooms and a hefty and she was a regular tiger-cat. She'd tear things to pieces when she got mad and she was mad all the time. Had a baby just like her yell day and night and if I didn't have to tend it and when it screamed she'd fire things at me. She fired a plate at me one day and hit the baby, cut its chin. Doctor said he'd carry the mark till he died. Nice mother she was. Cracky. But didn't we have a time? Ben and myself and the youngen. She was mad at Ben because he didn't make money faster. And last he went out west with a man to set up a cattle ranch and hadn't been gone a week for one night at home from selling my papers. And the rooms was locked up and empty and the woman of the house she told me mean had gone shown a clean pair of heels. Someone else said she'd gone across the water to be noose to a lady as had a little baby too. Never heard a word of her since. Neither has been. If I'd have been him I would have fretted a bit and I guess he didn't. But he thought a heap of her at the start. Tell you he was spoons on her. She was a daisy-looking gal too when she was dressed up and not mad. She'd big black eyes and black hair down to her knees. She'd make it into a rope as big as your arm and twist it round and round her head and I tell you her eyes had snapped. Folks used to say she was part Italian. Said her mother or father'd come from there. And had made her queer. I tell you she was one of them, she was. He often told Mr. Hobb's stories of her and of his brother Ben, who since his going out west had written once or twice to Dick. Ben's luck had not been good and he had wandered from place to place but at last he had settled on a ranch in California where he was at work at the time when Dick became acquainted with Mr. Hobb's. That gal said Dick one day she took all the grit out of him. I couldn't help feeling sorry for him sometimes. They were sitting in the store doorway together and Mr. Hobb was fillin' his pipe. He ought to have married, he said solemnly, as he rose to get a match. Women I never could see any use in them, myself. As he took the match from its box he stopped and looked down on the counter. Why he said if here isn't a letter I didn't see it before. The postman must have laid it down when I wasn't noticing or the newspaper slipped over it. He picked it up and looked at it carefully. It's from him, he exclaimed. That's the very one it's from. He forgot his pipe all together. He went back to his chair quite excited and took his pocketknife and opened the envelope. I wonder what news there is this time, he said. And then he unfolded the letter and read as follows. Dorncourt Castle. My dear Mr. Hobbs. I write this in a great hurry because I have something curious to tell you. I know you will be very much surprised my dear friend when I tell you. It is all a mistake and I'm not a Lord and I shall not have to be an Earl. There is a lady which was married to my Uncle Beavis who is dead and she has a little boy and he is Lord Fauntleroy because that is the way it is in England. The Earl's eldest son's little boy is the Earl if everybody else is dead. I mean if his father and grandfather are dead. My grandfather is not dead but my Uncle Beavis is and so his boy is Lord Fauntleroy. And I am not because my Papa was the youngest son and my name is Cedric Arrow like it was when I was in New York and all the things will belong to the other boy. I thought at first I should have to give him my pony and cart but my grandfather says I need not. My grandfather is very sorry and I think he does not like the lady but perhaps he thinks dearest and I are sorry because I shall not be an Earl. I would like to be an Earl now better than I thought I would at first because this is a beautiful castle and I like everybody so and when you are rich you can do so many things. I am not rich now because when your Papa is only the youngest son he is not very rich and I am going to learn to work so that I can take care of dearest. I have been asking Wilkins about grooming horses. Perhaps I might be a groom or a coachman. The lady brought her little boy to the castle and my grandfather and Mr. Havisham talked to her. I think she was angry. She talked loud and my grandfather was angry too. I never saw him angry before and I wish it did not make them all mad. I thought I would tell you and Dick right away because you would be interested. So no more at present with love from your old friend Cedric Errol not Lord Fauntleroy. Mr. Hobbs fell back in his chair. The letter dropped on his knee. His pen knife slipped to the floor and so did the envelope. Well, he ejaculated, I am jiggered. He was so dumbfounded that he actually changed his exclamation. It had always been his habit to say I will be jiggered but this time he said I am jiggered. Perhaps he really was jiggered. There is no knowing. Well said Dick. The whole things bust up, hasn't it? Bus, said Mr. Hobbs. It's my opinion it's a put up job with the British aristocrats to rob him of his rights because he's an American. They've had a spy to get us ever since the Revolution and they're taking it out on him. I told you he wasn't safe and see what's happened. Like as not the whole government got together to rob him of his lawful Owens. He was very much agitated. He had not approved with the change in his young friend's circumstances at first but lately he had become more reconciled to it. And after the receipt of Cedric's letter he had perhaps even felt some secret pride in his young friend's magnificence. He might not have a good opinion of Earl's but he knew that even in America money was considered rather an agreeable thing and if all the wealth and grandeur were to go with the title it must be rather hard to lose it. They're trying to rob him he said that's what they're doing and folks that have money ought to look after him. And he kept dick with him until quite a late hour to talk it over and when that young man left he went with him to the corner of the street and on his way back he stopped opposite the empty house for some time staring at the tulet and smoking his pipe in much disturbance of mind.