Chapter VI

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

　　When Lord Fauntleroy wakened in the morning,--he had not wakenedat all when he had been carried to bed the night before,--thefirst sounds he was conscious of were the crackling of a woodfire and the murmur of voices."You will be careful, Dawson, not to say anything about it," heheard some one say. "He does not know why she is not to be withhim, and the reason is to be kept from him.""If them's his lordship's orders, mem," another voice answered,they'll have to be kep', I suppose. But, if you'll excuse theliberty, mem, as it'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, andhim such a little beauty and a nobleman born. James and Thomas,mem, last night in the servants' hall, they both of 'em say asthey never see anythink in their two lives--nor yet no othergentleman in livery--like that little fellow's ways, as innercentan' polite an' interested as if he'd been sitting there diningwith his best friend,--and the temper of a' angel, instead of one(if you'll excuse me, mem), as it's well known, is enough tocurdle your blood in your veins at times. And as to looks, mem,when we was rung for, James and me, to go into the library andbring him upstairs, and James lifted him up in his arms, whatwith his little innercent face all red and rosy, and his littlehead on James's shoulder and his hair hanging down, all curly an'shinin', a prettier, takiner sight you'd never wish to see. An'it's my opinion, my lord wasn't blind to it neither, for helooked at him, and he says to James, `See you don't wake him!' hesays."Cedric moved on his pillow, and turned over, opening his eyes.There were two women in the room. Everything was bright andcheerful with gay-flowered chintz. There was a fire on thehearth, and the sunshine was streaming in through theivy-entwined windows. Both women came toward him, and he sawthat one of them was Mrs. Mellon, the housekeeper, and the othera comfortable, middle-aged woman, with a face as kind andgood-humored as a face could be."Good-morning, my lord," said Mrs. Mellon. "Did you sleepwell?"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 thehousekeeper. "This is your bedroom, and this is Dawson, who isto take care of you."Fauntleroy sat up in bed and held out his hand to Dawson, as hehad held it out to the Earl."How do you do, ma'am?" he said. "I'm much obliged to you forcoming to take care of me.""You can call her Dawson, my lord," said the housekeeper with asmile. "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."Neither Miss nor Missis, bless your little heart ! Will youget up now, and let Dawson dress you, and then have yourbreakfast in the nursery?""I learned to dress myself many years ago, thank you," answeredFauntleroy. "Dearest taught me. `Dearest' is my mamma. We hadonly Mary to do all the work,--washing and all,--and so of courseit wouldn't do to give her so much trouble. I can take my bath,too, pretty well if you'll just be kind enough to 'zamine thecorners 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-humored voice. "He shall dress himself if he likes, andI'll stand by, ready to help him if he wants me.""Thank you," responded Lord Fauntleroy; "it's a little hardsometimes about the buttons, you know, and then I have to asksomebody."He thought Dawson a very kind woman, and before the bath and thedressing were finished they were excellent friends, and he hadfound out a great deal about her. He had discovered that herhusband had been a soldier and had been killed in a real battle,and that her son was a sailor, and was away on a long cruise, andthat he had seen pirates and cannibals and Chinese people andTurks, and that he brought home strange shells and pieces ofcoral which Dawson was ready to show at any moment, some of thembeing in her trunk. All this was very interesting. He alsofound out that she had taken care of little children all herlife, and that she had just come from a great house in anotherpart of England, where she had been taking care of a beautifullittle girl whose name was Lady Gwyneth Vaughn."And she is a sort of relation of your lordship's," saidDawson. "And perhaps sometime you may see her.""Do you think I shall?" said Fauntleroy. "I should like that.I never knew any little girls, but I always like to look atthem."When he went into the adjoining room to take his breakfast, andsaw what a great room it was, and found there was anotheradjoining it which Dawson told him was his also, the feeling thathe was very small indeed came over him again so strongly that heconfided it to Dawson, as he sat down to the table on which thepretty breakfast service was arranged."I am a very little boy," he said rather wistfully, "to livein such a large castle, and have so many big rooms,--don't youthink so?""Oh! come!" said Dawson, "you feel just a little strange atfirst, that's all; but you'll get over that very soon, and thenyou'll like it here. It's such a beautiful place, you know.""It's a very beautiful place, of course," said Fauntleroy, witha little sigh; "but I should like it better if I didn't missDearest so. I always had my breakfast with her in the morning,and put the sugar and cream in her tea for her, and handed herthe toast. That made it very sociable, of course.""Oh, well!" answered Dawson, comfortingly, "you know you cansee her every day, and there's no knowing how much you'll have totell her. Bless you! wait till you've walked about a bit andseen things,--the dogs, and the stables with all the horses inthem. There's one of them I know you'll like to see----""Is there?" exclaimed Fauntleroy; "I'm very fond of horses. Iwas very fond of Jim. He was the horse that belonged to Mr.Hobbs' grocery wagon. He was a beautiful horse when he wasn'tbalky.""Well," said Dawson, "you just wait till you've seen what's inthe stables. And, deary me, you haven't looked even into thevery next room yet!""What is there?" asked Fauntleroy."Wait until you've had your breakfast, and then you shall see,"said Dawson.At this he naturally began to grow curious, and he appliedhimself assiduously to his breakfast. It seemed to him thatthere must be something worth looking at, in the next room;Dawson had such a consequential, mysterious air."Now, then," he said, slipping off his seat a few minuteslater; "I've had enough. Can I go and look at it?"Dawson nodded and led the way, looking more mysterious andimportant than ever. He began to be very much interested indeed.When she opened the door of the room, he stood upon the thresholdand looked about him in amazement. He did not speak; he only puthis hands in his pockets and stood there flushing up to hisforehead and looking in.He flushed up because he was so surprised and, for the moment,excited. To see such a place was enough to surprise any ordinaryboy.The room was a large one, too, as all the rooms seemed to be, andit appeared to him more beautiful than the rest, only in adifferent way. The furniture was not so massive and antique aswas that in the rooms he had seen downstairs; the draperies andrugs and walls were brighter; there were shelves full of books,and on the tables were numbers of toys,--beautiful, ingeniousthings,--such as he had looked at with wonder and delight throughthe shop windows in New York."It looks like a boy's room," he said at last, catching hisbreath a little. "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? Whogave them to me?" And he sprang forward with a gay little shout.It seemed almost too much to be believed. "It was Grandpapa!"he said, with his eyes as bright as stars. "I know it wasGrandpapa!""Yes, it was his lordship," said Dawson; "and if you will be anice little gentleman, and not fret about things, and will enjoyyourself, and be happy all the day, he will give you anything youask for."It was a tremendously exciting morning. There were so manythings to be examined, so many experiments to be tried; eachnovelty was so absorbing that he could scarcely turn from it tolook at the next. And it was so curious to know that all thishad been prepared for himself alone; that, even before he hadleft New York, people had come down from London to arrange therooms he was to occupy, and had provided the books and playthingsmost likely to interest him."Did you ever know any one," he said to Dawson, "who had sucha kind grandfather!"Dawson's face wore an uncertain expression for a moment. She hadnot a very high opinion of his lordship the Earl. She had notbeen in the house many days, but she had been there long enoughto hear the old nobleman's peculiarities discussed very freely inthe servants' hall."An' of all the wicious, savage, hill-tempered hold fellows itwas ever my hill-luck to wear livery hunder," the tallestfootman had said, "he's the wiolentest and wust by a longshot."And this particular footman, whose name was Thomas, had alsorepeated to his companions below stairs some of the Earl'sremarks to Mr. Havisham, when they had been discussing these verypreparations."Give him his own way, and fill his rooms with toys," my lordhad said. "Give him what will amuse him, and he'll forget abouthis mother quickly enough. Amuse him, and fill his mind withother things, and we shall have no trouble. That's boy nature."So, perhaps, having had this truly amiable object in view, it didnot please him so very much to find it did not seem to be exactlythis particular boy's nature. The Earl had passed a bad nightand had spent the morning in his room; but at noon, after he hadlunched, he sent for his grandson.Fauntleroy answered the summons at once. He came down the broadstaircase with a bounding step; the Earl heard him run across thehall, and then the door opened and he came in with red cheeks andsparkling eyes."I was waiting for you to send for me," he said. "I was readya long time ago. I'm ever so much obliged to you for all thosethings! I'm ever so much obliged to you! I have been playingwith 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'slike baseball, only you play it on a board with black and whitepegs, and you keep your score with some counters on a wire. Itried to teach Dawson, but she couldn't quite understand it justat first--you see, she never played baseball, being a lady; andI'm afraid I wasn't very good at explaining it to her. But youknow all about it, don't you?""I'm afraid I don't," replied the Earl. "It's an Americangame, isn't it? Is it something like cricket?""I never saw cricket," said Fauntleroy; "but Mr. Hobbs took meseveral times to see baseball. It's a splendid game. You get soexcited! Would you like me to go and get my game and show it toyou? Perhaps it would amuse you and make you forget about yourfoot. Does your foot hurt you very much this morning?""More than I enjoy," was the answer."Then perhaps you couldn't forget it," said the little fellowanxiously. "Perhaps it would bother you to be told about thegame. Do you think it would amuse you, or do you think it wouldbother you?""Go and get it," said the Earl.It certainly was a novel entertainment this,--making a companionof a child who offered to teach him to play games,--but the verynovelty of it amused him. There was a smile lurking about theEarl's mouth when Cedric came back with the box containing thegame, in his arms, and an expression of the most eager intereston his face."May I pull that little table over here to your chair?" heasked."Ring for Thomas," said the Earl. "He will place it foryou.""Oh, I can do it myself," answered Fauntleroy. "It's not veryheavy.""Very well," replied his grandfather. The lurking smiledeepened on the old man's face as he watched the little fellow'spreparations; there was such an absorbed interest in them. Thesmall table was dragged forward and placed by his chair, and thegame taken from its box and arranged upon it."It's very interesting when you once begin," said Fauntleroy."You see, the black pegs can be your side and the white onesmine. They're men, you know, and once round the field is a homerun and counts one--and these are the outs--and here is the firstbase and that's the second and that's the third and that's thehome base."He entered into the details of explanation with the greatestanimation. He showed all the attitudes of pitcher and catcherand batter in the real game, and gave a dramatic description of awonderful "hot ball" he had seen caught on the gloriousoccasion on which he had witnessed a match in company with Mr.Hobbs. His vigorous, graceful little body, his eager gestures,his simple enjoyment of it all, were pleasant to behold.When at last the explanations and illustrations were at an endand the game began in good earnest, the Earl still found himselfentertained. His young companion was wholly absorbed; he playedwith all his childish heart; his gay little laughs when he made agood throw, his enthusiasm over a "home run," his impartialdelight over his own good luck and his opponent's, would havegiven a flavor to any game.If, a week before, any one had told the Earl of Dorincourt thaton that particular morning he would be forgetting his gout andhis bad temper in a child's game, played with black and whitewooden pegs, on a gayly painted board, with a curly-headed smallboy for a companion, he would without doubt have made himselfvery unpleasant; and yet he certainly had forgotten himself whenthe door opened and Thomas announced a visitor.The visitor in question, who was an elderly gentleman in black,and no less a person than the clergyman of the parish, was sostartled by the amazing scene which met his eye, that he almostfell back a pace, and ran some risk of colliding with Thomas.There was, in fact, no part of his duty that the Reverend Mr.Mordaunt found so decidedly unpleasant as that part whichcompelled him to call upon his noble patron at the Castle. Hisnoble patron, indeed, usually made these visits as disagreeableas it lay in his lordly power to make them. He abhorred churchesand charities, and flew into violent rages when any of histenantry took the liberty of being poor and ill and needingassistance. When his gout was at its worst, he did not hesitateto announce that he would not be bored and irritated by beingtold stories of their miserable misfortunes; when his gouttroubled him less and he was in a somewhat more humane frame ofmind, he would perhaps give the rector some money, after havingbullied him in the most painful manner, and berated the wholeparish for its shiftlessness and imbecility. But, whatsoever hismood, he never failed to make as many sarcastic and embarrassingspeeches as possible, and to cause the Reverend Mr. Mordaunt towish it were proper and Christian-like to throw something heavyat him. During all the years in which Mr. Mordaunt had been incharge of Dorincourt parish, the rector certainly did notremember having seen his lordship, of his own free will, do anyone a kindness, or, under any circumstances whatever, show thathe thought of any one but himself.He had called to-day to speak to him of a specially pressingcase, and as he had walked up the avenue, he had, for tworeasons, dreaded his visit more than usual. In the first place,he knew that his lordship had for several days been sufferingwith the gout, and had been in so villainous a humor that rumorsof it had even reached the village--carried there by one of theyoung women servants, to her sister, who kept a little shop andretailed darning-needles and cotton and peppermints and gossip,as a means of earning an honest living. What Mrs. Dibble did notknow about the Castle and its inmates, and the farm-houses andtheir inmates, and the village and its population, was really notworth being talked about. And of course she knew everythingabout the Castle, because her sister, Jane Shorts, was one of theupper housemaids, and was very friendly and intimate with Thomas."And the way his lordship do go on!" said Mrs. Dibble, over thecounter, "and the way he do use language, Mr. Thomas told Janeherself, no flesh and blood as is in livery could stand--forthrow a plate of toast at Mr. Thomas, hisself, he did, not morethan two days since, and if it weren't for other things beingagreeable and the society below stairs most genteel, warningwould have been gave within a' hour!"And the rector had heard all this, for somehow the Earl was afavorite black sheep in the cottages and farm-houses, and his badbehavior gave many a good woman something to talk about when shehad company to tea.And the second reason was even worse, because it was a new oneand had been talked about with the most excited interest.Who did not know of the old nobleman's fury when his handsome sonthe Captain had married the American lady? Who did not know howcruelly he had treated the Captain, and how the big, gay,sweet-smiling young man, who was the only member of the grandfamily any one liked, had died in a foreign land, poor andunforgiven? Who did not know how fiercely his lordship had hatedthe poor young creature who had been this son's wife, and how hehad hated the thought of her child and never meant to see theboy--until his two sons died and left him without an heir? Andthen, who did not know that he had looked forward without anyaffection or pleasure to his grandson's coming, and that he hadmade up his mind that he should find the boy a vulgar, awkward,pert American lad, more likely to disgrace his noble name than tohonor it?The proud, angry old man thought he had kept all his thoughtssecret. He did not suppose any one had dared to guess at, muchless talk over what he felt, and dreaded; but his servantswatched him, and read his face and his ill-humors and fits ofgloom, and discussed them in the servants' hall. And while hethought himself quite secure from the common herd, Thomas wastelling Jane and the cook, and the butler, and the housemaids andthe other footmen that it was his opinion that "the hold man waswuss than usual a-thinkin' hover the Capting's boy, an'hanticipatin' as he won't be no credit to the fambly. An' servehim right," added Thomas; "hit's 'is hown fault. Wot can heiggspect from a child brought up in pore circumstances in thatthere low Hamerica?"And as the Reverend Mr. Mordaunt walked under the great trees, heremembered that this questionable little boy had arrived at theCastle only the evening before, and that there were nine chancesto one that his lordship's worst fears were realized, andtwenty-two chances to one that if the poor little fellow haddisappointed him, the Earl was even now in a tearing rage, andready to vent all his rancor on the first person whocalled--which it appeared probable would be his reverend self.Judge then of his amazement when, as Thomas opened the librarydoor, his ears were greeted by a delighted ring of childishlaughter."That's two out!" shouted an excited, clear little voice."You see it's two out!"And there was the Earl's chair, and the gout-stool, and his footon it; and by him a small table and a game on it; and quite closeto him, actually leaning against his arm and his ungouty knee,was a little boy with face glowing, and eyes dancing withexcitement. "It's two out!" the little stranger cried. "Youhadn't any luck that time, had you?"--And then they bothrecognized 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 wasstill more surprised to see that he looked even less disagreeablethan usual instead of more so. In fact, he looked almost as ifhe had forgotten for the moment how disagreeable he was, and howunpleasant he really could make himself when he tried."Ah!" he said, in his harsh voice, but giving his hand rathergraciously. "Good-morning, Mordaunt. I've found a newemployment, you see."He put his other hand on Cedric's shoulder,--perhaps deep down inhis heart there was a stir of gratified pride that it was such anheir he had to present; there was a spark of something likepleasure in his eyes as he moved the boy slightly forward."This is the new Lord Fauntleroy," he said. "Fauntleroy, thisis Mr. Mordaunt, the rector of the parish."Fauntleroy looked up at the gentleman in the clerical garments,and gave him his hand."I am very glad to make your acquaintance, sir," he said,remembering the words he had heard Mr. Hobbs use on one or twooccasions when he had been greeting a new customer with ceremony.Cedric felt quite sure that one ought to be more than usuallypolite to a minister.Mr. Mordaunt held the small hand in his a moment as he lookeddown at the child's face, smiling involuntarily. He liked thelittle fellow from that instant--as in fact people always didlike him. And it was not the boy's beauty and grace which mostappealed to him; it was the simple, natural kindliness in thelittle lad which made any words he uttered, however quaint andunexpected, sound pleasant and sincere. As the rector looked atCedric, 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 clearall the atmosphere of the big gloomy room and make it brighter."I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lord Fauntleroy,"said the rector. "You made a long journey to come to us. Agreat many people will be glad to know you made it safely.""It was a long way," answered Fauntleroy, "but Dearest, mymother, was with me and I wasn't lonely. Of course you are neverlonely if your mother is with you; and the ship was beautiful.""Take a chair, Mordaunt," said the Earl. Mr. Mordaunt satdown. He glanced 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 onthe subject."He is like his father," he said rather gruffly. "Let us hopehe'll conduct himself more creditably." And then he added:"Well, what is it this morning, Mordaunt? Who is in troublenow?"This was not as bad as Mr. Mordaunt had expected, but hehesitated a second before he began."It is Higgins," he said; "Higgins of Edge Farm. He has beenvery unfortunate. He was ill himself last autumn, and hischildren had scarlet fever. I can't say that he is a very goodmanager, but he has had ill-luck, and of course he is behindhandin many ways. He is in trouble about his rent now. Newick tellshim if he doesn't pay it, he must leave the place; and of coursethat would be a very serious matter. His wife is ill, and hecame to me yesterday to beg me to see about it, and ask you fortime. He thinks if you would give him time he could catch upagain.""They all think that," said the Earl, looking rather black.Fauntleroy made a movement forward. He had been standing betweenhis grandfather and the visitor, listening with all his might.He had begun to be interested in Higgins at once. He wonderedhow many children there were, and if the scarlet fever had hurtthem very much. His eyes were wide open and were fixed upon Mr.Mordaunt with intent interest as that gentleman went on with theconversation."Higgins is a well-meaning man," said the rector, making aneffort to strengthen his plea."He is a bad enough tenant," replied his lordship. "And he isalways behindhand, 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 istaken from him they may literally starve. He can not give themthe nourishing things they need. Two of the children were leftvery low after the fever, and the doctor orders for them wine andluxuries that Higgins can not 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 inthe room. Who was Michael?" And the gleam of queer amusementcame back into the old man's deep-set eyes."He was Bridget's husband, who had the fever," answeredFauntleroy; "and he couldn't pay the rent or buy wine andthings. And you gave me that money to help him."The Earl drew his brows together into a curious frown, whichsomehow was scarcely grim at all. He glanced across at Mr.Mordaunt."I don't know what sort of landed proprietor he will make," hesaid. "I told Havisham the boy was to have what hewanted--anything he wanted--and what he wanted, it seems, wasmoney to give to beggars.""Oh! but they weren't beggars," said Fauntleroy eagerly."Michael was a splendid bricklayer! They all worked.""Oh!" said the Earl, "they were not beggars. They weresplendid bricklayers, and bootblacks, and apple-women."He bent his gaze on the boy for a few seconds in silence. Thefact was that a new thought was coming to him, and though,perhaps, it was not prompted by the noblest emotions, it was nota bad thought. "Come here," he said, at last.Fauntleroy went and stood as near to him as possible withoutencroaching on the gouty foot."What would you do in this case?" his lordship asked.It must be confessed that Mr. Mordaunt experienced for the momenta curious sensation. Being a man of great thoughtfulness, andhaving spent so many years on the estate of Dorincourt, knowingthe tenantry, rich and poor, the people of the village, honestand industrious, dishonest and lazy, he realized very stronglywhat power for good or evil would be given in the future to thisone small boy standing there, his brown eyes wide open, his handsdeep in his pockets; and the thought came to him also that agreat deal of power might, perhaps, through the caprice of aproud, self-indulgent old man, be given to him now, and that ifhis young nature were not a simple and generous one, it might bethe worst thing that could happen, not only for others, but forhimself."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 the most confiding air of good comradeship."If I were very rich," he said, "and not only just a littleboy, I should let him stay, and give him the things for hischildren; but then, I am only a boy." Then, after a second'spause, in which his face brightened visibly, "You can doanything, can't you?" he said."Humph!" said my lord, staring at him. "That's your opinion,is it?" And he 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 tenantsare not over-fond of him.""Are you going to write him a letter now?" inquired Fauntleroy."Shall I bring you the pen and ink? I can take the game offthis table."It plainly had not for an instant occurred to him that Newickwould be allowed to do his worst.The Earl paused a moment, still looking at him. "Can youwrite?" he asked."Yes," answered Cedric, "but not very well.""Move the things from the table," commanded my lord, "andbring the pen and ink, and a sheet of paper from my desk."Mr. Mordaunt's interest began to increase. Fauntleroy did as hewas told very deftly. In a few moments, the sheet of paper, thebig inkstand, and the 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."Will it do if I write it? I don't always spell quite rightwhen I haven't a dictionary, and nobody tells me.""It will do," answered the Earl. "Higgins will not complainof the spelling. I'm not the philanthropist; you are. Dip yourpen in the ink."Fauntleroy took up the pen and dipped it in the ink-bottle, thenhe arranged 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 thepresent,' and sign it, `Fauntleroy,'" said the Earl.Fauntleroy dipped his pen in the ink again, and resting his arm,began to write. It was rather a slow and serious process, but hegave his whole soul to it. After a while, however, themanuscript was complete, and he handed it to his grandfather witha smile slightly tinged with anxiety."Do you think it will do?" he asked.The Earl looked at it, and the corners of his mouth twitched alittle."Yes," he answered; "Higgins will find it entirelysatisfactory." And he handed it to Mr. Mordaunt.What Mr. Mordaunt found written was this:"Dear mr. Newik if you pleas mr. higins is not to be inturfeared with for the present and oblige.Yours rispecferly"Fauntleroy.""Mr. Hobbs always signed his letters that way," saidFauntleroy; "and I thought I'd better say `please.' Is thatexactly the right way to spell `interfered'?""It's not exactly the way it is spelled in the dictionary,"answered the Earl."I was afraid of that," said Fauntleroy. "I ought to haveasked. You see, that's the way with words of more than onesyllable; you have to look in the dictionary. It's alwayssafest. I'll write it over again."And write it over again he did, making quite an imposing copy,and taking precautions in the matter of spelling by consultingthe Earl himself."Spelling is a curious thing," he said. "It's so oftendifferent from what you expect it to be. I used to think`please' was spelled p-l-e-e-s, but it isn't, you know; and you'dthink `dear' was spelled d-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 hetook something else with him also--namely, a pleasanter feelingand a more hopeful one than he had ever carried home with himdown that avenue on any previous visit he had made at DorincourtCastle.When he was gone, Fauntleroy, who had accompanied him to thedoor, went back to his grandfather."May I go to Dearest now?" he asked. "I think she will bewaiting for me."The Earl was silent a moment."There is something in the stable for you to see first," hesaid. "Ring the bell.""If you please," said Fauntleroy, with his quick little flush."I'm very much obliged; but I think I'd better see it to-morrow.She will be expecting me all the time.""Very well," answered the Earl. "We will order thecarriage." Then he added 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 thingsupstairs?""Yes," said his grandfather. "Would you like to see it?Shall I order it to be brought around?"Fauntleroy's cheeks grew redder and redder."I never thought I should have a pony!" he said. "I neverthought 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 to see it so much I can hardly wait. But I'm afraidthere isn't time.""You must go and see your mother this afternoon?" asked theEarl. "You think you can't put it off?""Why," said Fauntleroy, "she has been thinking about me allthe 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 wasrather silent. But Fauntleroy was not. He talked about thepony. What color was it? How big was it? What was its name?What did it like to eat best? How old was it? How early in themorning might he get up and see it?"Dearest will be so glad!" he kept saying. "She will be somuch obliged to you for being so kind to me! She knows I alwaysliked ponies so much, but we never thought I should have one.There was a little boy on Fifth Avenue who had one, and he usedto ride out every morning and we used to take a walk past hishouse to see him."He leaned back against the cushions and regarded the Earl withrapt interest for a few minutes and in entire silence."I think you must be the best person in the world," he burstforth at last. "You are always doing good, aren't you?--andthinking about other people. Dearest says that is the best kindof goodness; not to think about yourself, but to think aboutother people. That is just the way you 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. Hefelt that he needed time for reflection. To see each of hisugly, selfish motives changed into a good and generous one by thesimplicity of a child was a singular experience.Fauntleroy went on, still regarding him with admiring eyes--thosegreat, clear, innocent eyes!"You make so many people happy," he said. "There's Michaeland Bridget and their ten children, and the apple-woman, andDick, and Mr. Hobbs, and Mr. Higgins and Mrs. Higgins and theirchildren, and Mr. Mordaunt,--because of course he was glad,--andDearest and me, about the pony and all the other things. Do youknow, I've counted it up on my fingers and in my mind, and it'stwenty-seven people you've been kind to. That's a goodmany--twenty-seven!""And I was the person who was kind to them--was I?" said theEarl."Why, yes, you know," answered Fauntleroy. "You made them allhappy. Do you know," with some delicate hesitation, "thatpeople are sometimes mistaken about earls when they don't knowthem. Mr. Hobbs was. I am going to write him, and tell himabout it.""What was Mr. Hobbs's opinion of earls?" asked his lordship."Well, you see, the difficulty was," replied his youngcompanion, "that he didn't know any, and he'd only read aboutthem in books. He thought--you mustn't mind it--that they weregory tyrants; and he said he wouldn't have them hanging aroundhis store. But if he'd known you, I'm sure he would have feltquite different. I shall tell him about you.""What shall you tell him?""I shall tell him," said Fauntleroy, glowing with enthusiasm,"that you are the kindest man I ever heard of. And you arealways thinking of other people, and making them happy and--and Ihope when I grow up, I shall be just like you.""Just like me!" repeated his lordship, looking at the littlekindling face. And a dull red crept up under his withered skin,and he suddenly turned his eyes away and looked out of thecarriage window at the great beech-trees, with the sun shining ontheir glossy, red-brown leaves."Just like you," said Fauntleroy, adding modestly, "if I can.Perhaps I'm not good enough, but I'm going to try."The carriage rolled on down the stately avenue under thebeautiful, broad-branched trees, through the spaces of greenshade and lanes of golden sunlight. Fauntleroy saw again thelovely places where the ferns grew high and the bluebells swayedin the breeze; he saw the deer, standing or lying in the deepgrass, turn their large, startled eyes as the carriage passed,and caught glimpses of the brown rabbits as they scurried away.He heard the whir of the partridges and the calls and songs ofthe birds, and it all seemed even more beautiful to him thanbefore. All his heart was filled with pleasure and happiness inthe beauty that was on every side. But the old Earl saw andheard very different things, though he was apparently looking outtoo. He saw a long life, in which there had been neithergenerous deeds nor kind thoughts; he saw years in which a man whohad been young and strong and rich and powerful had used hisyouth and strength and wealth and power only to please himselfand kill time as the days and years succeeded each other; he sawthis man, when the time had been killed and old age had come,solitary and without real friends in the midst of all hissplendid wealth; he saw people who disliked or feared him, andpeople who would flatter and cringe to him, but no one who reallycared whether he lived or died, unless they had something to gainor lose by it. He looked out on the broad acres which belongedto him, and he knew what Fauntleroy did not--how far theyextended, what wealth they represented, and how many people hadhomes on their soil. And he knew, too,--another thing Fauntleroydid not,--that in all those homes, humble or well-to-do, therewas probably not one person, however much he envied the wealthand stately name and power, and however willing he would havebeen to possess them, who would for an instant have thought ofcalling the noble owner "good," or wishing, as thissimple-souled little boy had, to be like him.And it was not exactly pleasant to reflect upon, even for acynical, worldly old man, who had been sufficient unto himselffor seventy years and who had never deigned to care what opinionthe world held of him so long as it did not interfere with hiscomfort or entertainment. And the fact was, indeed, that he hadnever before condescended to reflect upon it at all; and he onlydid so now because a child had believed him better than he was,and by wishing to follow in his illustrious footsteps and imitatehis example, had suggested to him the curious question whether hewas 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 disturbhim, and enjoyed the trees and the ferns and the deer in silence.But at last the carriage, having passed the gates and bowledthrough the green lanes for a short distance, stopped. They hadreached Court Lodge; and Fauntleroy was out upon the groundalmost before the big footman had time 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. Justlean on me when you get out.""I am not going to get out," replied his lordship brusquely."Not--not to see Dearest?" exclaimed Fauntleroy with astonishedface."`Dearest' will excuse me," said the Earl dryly. "Go to herand tell her that not even a new pony would keep you away.""She will be disappointed," said Fauntleroy. "She will wantto see you very much.""I am afraid not," was the answer. "The carriage will callfor you as we come back.--Tell Jeffries to drive on, Thomas."Thomas closed the carriage door; and, after a puzzled look,Fauntleroy ran up the drive. The Earl had the opportunity--asMr. Havisham once had--of seeing a pair of handsome, stronglittle legs flash over the ground with astonishing rapidity.Evidently their owner had no intention of losing any time. Thecarriage rolled slowly away, but his lordship did not at oncelean back; he still looked out. Through a space in the trees hecould see the house door; it was wide open. The little figuredashed up the steps; another figure--a little figure, too,slender and young, in its black gown--ran to meet it. It seemedas if they flew together, as Fauntleroy leaped into his mother'sarms, hanging about her neck and covering her sweet young facewith kisses.