the person in the chair spoke. “Dougal,” he called, “come back, sir.”
But there was no more fear in little Lord Fauntleroy’s heart than there was unkindness—he had been a brave little fellow all his life. He put his hand on the big dog’s collar in the most natural way in the world, and they strayed forward together, Dougal sniffing as he went.
And then the Earl looked up. What Cedric saw was a large old man with shaggy white hair and eyebrows, and a nose like an eagle’s beak between his deep, fierce eyes. What the Earl saw was a graceful, childish figure in a black velvet suit, with a lace collar, and with lovelocks waving about the handsome, manly little face, whose eyes met his with a look of innocent good-fellowship. If the Castle was like the palace in a fairy story, it must be owned that little Lord Fauntleroy was himself rather like a small copy of the fairy prince, though he was not at all aware of the fact, and perhaps was rather a sturdy young model of a fairy. But there was a sudden glow of triumph and exultation in the fiery old Earl’s heart as he saw what a strong, beautiful boy this grandson was, and how unhesitatingly he looked up as he stood with his hand on the big dog’s neck. It pleased the grim old nobleman that the child should show no shyness or fear, either of the dog or of himself.
Cedric looked at him just as he had looked at the woman at the lodge and at the housekeeper, and came quite close to him.
“Are you the Earl?” he said. “I’m your grandson, you know, that Mr. Havisham brought. I’m Lord Fauntleroy.”
He held out his hand because he thought it must be the polite and proper thing to do even with earls. “I hope you are very well,” he continued, with the utmost friendliness. “I’m very glad to see you.”
The Earl shook hands with him, with a curious gleam in his eyes; just at first, he was so astonished that he scarcely knew what to say. He stared at the picturesque little apparition from under his shaggy brows, and took it all in from head to foot.
“Glad to see me, are you?” he said.
“Yes,” answered Lord Fauntleroy, “very.”
There was a chair near him, and he sat down on it; it was a highbacked, rather tall chair, and his feet did not touch the floor when he had settled himself in it, but he seemed to be quite comfortable as he sat there, and regarded his august relative intently but modestly.
“I’ve kept wondering what you would look like,” he remarked. “I used to lie in my berth in the ship and wonder if you would be anything like my father.”
“Am I?” asked the Earl.
“Well,” Cedric replied, “I was very young when he died, and I may not remember exactly how he looked, but I don’t think you are like him.”
“You are disappointed, I suppose?” suggested his grandfather.
“Oh, no,” responded Cedric politely. “Of course you would like any one to look like your father; but of course you would enjoy the way your grandfather looked, even if he wasn’t like your father. You know how it is yourself about admiring your relations.”
The Earl leaned back in his chair and stared. He could not be said to know how it was about admiring his relations. He had employed most of his noble leisure in quarreling violently with them, in turning them out of his house, and applying abusive epithets to them; and they all hated him cordially.
“Any boy would love his grandfather,” continued Lord Fauntleroy, “especially one that had been as kind to him as you have been.”
Another queer gleam came into the old nobleman’s eyes.
“Oh!” he said, “I have been kind to you, have I?”
“Yes,” answered Lord Fauntleroy brightly; “I’m ever so much obliged to you about Bridget, and the apple-woman, and Dick.”
“Bridget!” exclaimed the Earl. “Dick! The apple-woman!”
“Yes!” explained Cedric; “the ones you gave me all that money for—the money you told Mr. Havisham to give me if I wanted it.”
“Ha!” ejaculated his lordship. “That’s it, is it? The money you were to spend as you liked. What did you buy with it? I should like to hear something about that.”
He drew his shaggy eyebrows together and looked at the child sharply. He was secretly curious to know in what way the lad had indulged himself.
“Oh!” said Lord Fauntleroy, “perhaps you didn’t know about Dick and the apple-woman and Bridget. I forgot you lived such a long way off from them. They were particular friends of mine. And you see Michael had the fever——”
“Who’s Michael?” asked the Earl.
“Michael is Bridget’s husband, and they were in great trouble. When a man is sick and can’t work and has twelve children, you know how it is. And Michael has always been a sober man. And Bridget used to come to our house and cry. And the evening Mr. Havisham was there, she was in the kitchen crying, because they had almost nothing to eat and couldn’t pay the rent; and I went in to see her, and Mr. Havisham sent for me and he said you had given him some money for me. And I ran as fast as I could into the kitchen and gave it to Bridget; and that made it all right; and Bridget could scarcely believe her eyes. That’s why I’m so obliged to you.”
“Oh!” said the Earl in his deep voice, “that was one of the things you did for yourself, was it? What else?”
Dougal had been sitting by the tall chair; the great dog had taken its place there when Cedric sat down. Several times it had turned and looked up at the boy as if interested in the conversation. Dougal was a solemn dog, who seemed to feel altogether too big to take life’s responsibilities lightly. The old Earl, who knew the dog well, had watched it with secret interest. Dougal was not a dog whose habit it was to make acquaintances rashly, and the Earl wondered somewhat to see how quietly the brute sat under the touch of the childish hand. And, just at this moment, the big dog gave little Lord Fauntleroy one more look of dignified scrutiny, and deliberately laid its huge, lion-like head on the boy’s black-velvet knee.
The small hand went on stroking this new friend as Cedric answered:
“Well, there was Dick,” he said. “You’d like Dick, he’s so square.”
This was an Americanism the Earl was not prepared for.
“What does that mean?” he inquired.
Lord Fauntleroy paused a moment to reflect. He was not very sure himself what it meant. He had taken it for granted as meaning something very creditable because Dick had been fond of using it.
“I think it means that he wouldn’t cheat any one,” he exclaimed; “or hit a boy who was under his size, and that he blacks people’s boots very well and makes them shine as much as he can. He’s a perfessional bootblack.”
“And he’s one of your acquaintances, is he?” said the Earl.
“He is an old friend of mine,” replied his grandson. “Not quite as old as Mr. Hobbs, but quite old. He gave me a present just before the ship sailed.”
He put his hand into his pocket and drew forth a neatly folded red object and opened it with an air of affectionate
