Little Lord Fauntleroy (Musaicum Christmas Specials). Frances Hodgson Burnett

anything quite like this; but if it would give Lord Fauntleroy pleasure to assist this poor woman, I should feel that the Earl would be displeased if he were not gratified.”

      For the second time, he did not repeat the Earl’s exact words. His lordship had, indeed, said:

      “Make the lad understand that I can give him anything he wants. Let him know what it is to be the grandson of the Earl of Dorincourt. Buy him everything he takes a fancy to; let him have money in his pockets, and tell him his grandfather put it there.”

      His motives were far from being good, and if he had been dealing with a nature less affectionate and warm-hearted than little Lord Fauntleroy’s, great harm might have been done. And Cedric’s mother was too gentle to suspect any harm. She thought that perhaps this meant that a lonely, unhappy old man, whose children were dead, wished to be kind to her little boy, and win his love and confidence. And it pleased her very much to think that Ceddie would be able to help Bridget. It made her happier to know that the very first result of the strange fortune which had befallen her little boy was that he could do kind things for those who needed kindness. Quite a warm color bloomed on her pretty young face.

      “Oh!” she said, “that was very kind of the Earl; Cedric will be so glad! He has always been fond of Bridget and Michael. They are quite deserving. I have often wished I had been able to help them more. Michael is a hardworking man when he is well, but he has been ill a long time and needs expensive medicines and warm clothing and nourishing food. He and Bridget will not be wasteful of what is given them.”

      Mr. Havisham put his thin hand in his breast pocket and drew forth a large pocketbook. There was a queer look in his keen face. The truth was, he was wondering what the Earl of Dorincourt would say when he was told what was the first wish of his grandson that had been granted. He wondered what the cross, worldly, selfish old nobleman would think of it.

      “I do not know that you have realized,” he said, “that the Earl of Dorincourt is an exceedingly rich man. He can afford to gratify any caprice. I think it would please him to know that Lord Fauntleroy had been indulged in any fancy. If you will call him back and allow me, I shall give him five pounds for these people.”

      “That would be twenty-five dollars!” exclaimed Mrs. Errol. “It will seem like wealth to them. I can scarcely believe that it is true.”

      “It is quite true,” said Mr. Havisham, with his dry smile. “A great change has taken place in your son’s life, a great deal of power will lie in his hands.”

      “Oh!” cried his mother. “And he is such a little boy—a very little boy. How can I teach him to use it well? It makes me half afraid. My pretty little Ceddie!”

      The lawyer slightly cleared his throat. It touched his worldly, hard old heart to see the tender, timid look in her brown eyes.

      “I think, madam,” he said, “that if I may judge from my interview with Lord Fauntleroy this morning, the next Earl of Dorincourt will think for others as well as for his noble self. He is only a child yet, but I think he may be trusted.”

      Then his mother went for Cedric and brought him back into the parlor. Mr. Havisham heard him talking before he entered the room.

      “It’s infam-natory rheumatism,” he was saying, “and that’s a kind of rheumatism that’s dreadful. And he thinks about the rent not being paid, and Bridget says that makes the inf’ammation worse. And Pat could get a place in a store if he had some clothes.”

      His little face looked quite anxious when he came in. He was very sorry for Bridget.

      “Dearest said you wanted me,” he said to Mr. Havisham. “I’ve been talking to Bridget.”

      Mr. Havisham looked down at him a moment. He felt a little awkward and undecided. As Cedric’s mother had said, he was a very little boy.

      “The Earl of Dorincourt——” he began, and then he glanced involuntarily at Mrs. Errol.

      Little Lord Fauntleroy’s mother suddenly kneeled down by him and put both her tender arms around his childish body.

      “Ceddie,” she said, “the Earl is your grandpapa, your own papa’s father. He is very, very kind, and he loves you and wishes you to love him, because the sons who were his little boys are dead. He wishes you to be happy and to make other people happy. He is very rich, and he wishes you to have everything you would like to have. He told Mr. Havisham so, and gave him a great deal of money for you. You can give some to Bridget now; enough to pay her rent and buy Michael everything. Isn’t that fine, Ceddie? Isn’t he good?” And she kissed the child on his round cheek, where the bright color suddenly flashed up in his excited amazement.

      He looked from his mother to Mr. Havisham.

      “Can I have it now?” he cried. “Can I give it to her this minute? She’s just going.”

      Mr. Havisham handed him the money. It was in fresh, clean greenbacks and made a neat roll.

      Ceddie flew out of the room with it.

      “Bridget!” they heard him shout, as he tore into the kitchen. “Bridget, wait a minute! Here’s some money. It’s for you, and you can pay the rent. My grandpapa gave it to me. It’s for you and Michael!”

      “Oh, Master Ceddie!” cried Bridget, in an awe-stricken voice. “It’s twinty-foive dollars is here. Where be’s the misthress?”

      “I think I shall have to go and explain it to her,” Mrs. Errol said.

      So she, too, went out of the room and Mr. Havisham was left alone for a while. He went to the window and stood looking out into the street reflectively. He was thinking of the old Earl of Dorincourt, sitting in his great, splendid, gloomy library at the castle, gouty and lonely, surrounded by grandeur and luxury, but not really loved by any one, because in all his long life he had never really loved any one but himself; he had been selfish and self-indulgent and arrogant and passionate; he had cared so much for the Earl of Dorincourt and his pleasures that there had been no time for him to think of other people; all his wealth and power, all the benefits from his noble name and high rank, had seemed to him to be things only to be used to amuse and give pleasure to the Earl of Dorincourt; and now that he was an old man, all this excitement and self-indulgence had only brought him ill health and irritability and a dislike of the world, which certainly disliked him. In spite of all his splendor, there was never a more unpopular old nobleman than the Earl of Dorincourt, and there could scarcely have been a more lonely one. He could fill his castle with guests if he chose. He could give great dinners and splendid hunting parties; but he knew that in secret the people who would accept his invitations were afraid of his frowning old face and sarcastic, biting speeches. He had a cruel tongue and a bitter nature, and he took pleasure in sneering at people and making them feel uncomfortable, when he had the power to do so, because they were sensitive or proud or timid.

      Mr. Havisham knew his hard, fierce ways by heart, and he was thinking of him as he looked out of the window into the narrow, quiet street. And there rose in his mind, in sharp contrast, the picture of the cheery, handsome little fellow sitting in the big chair and telling his story of his friends, Dick and the apple-woman, in his generous, innocent, honest way. And he thought of the immense income, the beautiful, majestic estates, the wealth, and power for good or evil, which in the course of time would lie in the small, chubby hands little Lord Fauntleroy thrust so deep into his pockets.

      “It will make a great difference,” he said to himself. “It will make a great difference.”

      Cedric and his mother came back soon after. Cedric was in high spirits. He sat down in his own chair, between his mother and the lawyer, and fell into one of his quaint attitudes, with his hands on his knees. He was glowing with enjoyment of Bridget’s relief and rapture.

      “She cried!” he said. “She said she was crying for joy! I never saw any one cry for joy before. My grandpapa must be a very good man. I didn’t know he was so good a man. It’s more—more agreeabler to be an earl than I thought it was. I’m almost glad—I’m almost QUITE glad I’m going to be one.”