Little Lord Fauntleroy
nobleman's peculiarities discussed very freely in the servants' hall.
“An' of all the wicious, savage, hill-tempered hold fellows it was ever
my hill-luck to wear livery hunder,” the tallest footman had said, “he's
the wiolentest and wust by a long shot.”
And this particular footman, whose name was Thomas, had also repeated to
his companions below stairs some of the Earl's remarks to Mr. Havisham,
when they had been discussing these very preparations.
“Give him his own way, and fill his rooms with toys,” my lord had said.
“Give him what will amuse him, and he'll forget about his mother quickly
enough. Amuse him, and fill his mind with other things, and we shall
have no trouble. That's boy nature.”
So, perhaps, having had this truly amiable object in view, it did not
please him so very much to find it did not seem to be exactly this
particular boy's nature. The Earl had passed a bad night and had spent
the morning in his room; but at noon, after he had lunched, he sent for
his grandson.
Fauntleroy answered the summons at once. He came down the broad
staircase with a bounding step; the Earl heard him run across the hall,
and then the door opened and he came in with red cheeks and sparkling
eyes.
“I was waiting for you to send for me,” he said. “I was ready a long
time ago. I'm EVER so much obliged to you for all those things! I'm EVER
so much obliged to you! I have been playing with them all the morning.”
“Oh!” said the Earl, “you like them, do you?”
“I like them so much--well, I couldn't tell you how much!” said
Fauntleroy, his face glowing with delight. “There's one that's like
baseball, only you play it on a board with black and white pegs, and you
keep your score with some counters on a wire. I tried to teach Dawson,
but she couldn't quite understand it just at first--you see, she never
played baseball, being a lady; and I'm afraid I wasn't very good at
explaining it to her. But you know all about it, don't you?”
“I'm afraid I don't,” replied the Earl. “It's an American game, isn't
it? Is it something like cricket?”
“I never saw cricket,” said Fauntleroy; “but Mr. Hobbs took me several
times to see baseball. It's a splendid game. You get so excited! Would
you like me to go and get my game and show it to you? Perhaps it would
amuse you and make you forget about your foot. 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 fellow anxiously.
“Perhaps it would bother you to be told about the game. Do you think it
would amuse you, or do you think it would bother you?”
“Go and get it,” said the Earl.
It certainly was a novel entertainment this,--making a companion of a
child who offered to teach him to play games,--but the very novelty of
it amused him. There was a smile lurking about the Earl's mouth when
Cedric came back with the box containing the game, in his arms, and an
expression of the most eager interest on his face.
“May I pull that little table over here to your chair?” he asked.
“Ring for Thomas,” said the Earl. “He will place it for you.”
“Oh, I can do it myself,” answered Fauntleroy. “It's not very heavy.”
“Very well,” replied his grandfather. The lurking smile deepened on the
old man's face as he watched the little fellow's preparations; there was
such an absorbed interest in them. The small table was dragged forward
and placed by his chair, and the game 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 ones mine. They're men,
you know, and once round the field is a home run and counts one--and
these are the outs--and here is the first base and that's the second and
that's the third and that's the home base.”
He entered into the details of explanation with the greatest animation.
He showed all the attitudes of pitcher and catcher and batter in the
real game, and gave a dramatic description of a wonderful “hot ball”
he had seen caught on the glorious occasion 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 end and the
game began in good earnest, the Earl still found himself entertained.
His young companion was wholly absorbed; he played with all his childish
heart; his gay little laughs when he made a good throw, his enthusiasm
over a “home run,” his impartial delight over his own good luck and his
opponent's, would have given a flavor to any game.
If, a week before, any one had told the Earl of Dorincourt that on that
particular morning he would be forgetting his gout and his bad temper
in a child's game, played with black and white wooden pegs, on a gayly
painted board, with a curly-headed small boy for a companion, he would
without doubt have made himself very unpleasant; and yet he certainly
had forgotten himself when the 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 so startled by the
amazing scene which met his eye, that he almost fell 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 which compelled him to call
upon his noble patron at the Castle. His noble patron, indeed, usually
made these visits as disagreeable as it lay in his lordly power to make
them. He abhorred churches and charities, and flew into violent rages
when any of his tenantry took the liberty of being poor and ill and
needing assistance. When his gout was at its worst, he did not hesitate
to announce that he would not be bored and irritated by being told
stories of their miserable misfortunes; when his gout troubled him less
and he was in a somewhat more humane frame of mind, he would perhaps
give the rector some money, after having bullied him in the most
painful manner, and berated the whole parish for its shiftlessness and
imbecility. But, whatsoever his mood, he never failed to make as many
sarcastic and embarrassing speeches as possible, and to cause the
Reverend Mr. Mordaunt to wish it were proper and Christian-like to throw
something heavy at him. During all the years in which Mr. Mordaunt
had been in charge of Dorincourt parish, the rector certainly did not
remember having seen his lordship, of his own free will, do any one a
kindness, or, under any circumstances whatever, show that he thought of
any one but himself.
He had called to-day to speak to him of a specially pressing case, and
as he had walked up the avenue, he had, for two reasons, dreaded his
visit more than usual. In the first place, he knew that his lordship
had for several days been suffering with the gout, and had been in
so villainous a humor that rumors of it had even reached the
village--carried there by one of the young women servants, to her
sister, who kept a little shop and retailed darning-needles and cotton
and peppermints and gossip, as a means of earning an honest living.
What Mrs. Dibble did not know about the Castle and its inmates, and the
farm-houses and their inmates, and the village and its population, was
really not worth being talked about. And of course she knew everything
about the Castle, because her sister, Jane Shorts, was one of the upper
housemaids, and was very friendly and intimate with Thomas.
“And the way his lordship do go on!” said Mrs. Dibble, over the counter,
“and the way he do use language, Mr. Thomas told Jane herself, no flesh
and blood as is in livery could stand--for throw a plate of toast at Mr.
Thomas, hisself, he did, not more than two days since, and if it weren't
for other things being agreeable and the society below stairs most
genteel, warning would have been gave within a' hour!”
And the rector had heard all this, for somehow the Earl was a favorite
black sheep in the cottages and farm-houses, and his bad behavior gave
many a good woman something to talk about when she had company to tea.
And the second reason was even worse, because it was a new one and had
been talked about with the most excited interest.
Who did not know of the old nobleman's fury when his handsome son the
Captain had married the American lady? Who did not know how cruelly he
had treated the Captain, and how the big, gay, sweet-smiling young man,
who was the only member of the grand family any one liked, had died in
a foreign land, poor and unforgiven? Who did not know how fiercely his
lordship had hated the poor young creature who had been this son's wife,
and how he had hated the thought of her child and never meant to see the
boy--until his two sons died and left him without an heir? And then,
who did not know that he had looked forward without any affection or
pleasure to his grandson's coming, and that he had made up his mind that
he should find the boy a vulgar, awkward, pert American lad, more likely
to disgrace his noble name than to honor it?
The proud, angry old man thought he had kept all his thoughts secret. He
did not suppose any one had dared to guess at, much less talk over what
he felt, and dreaded; but his servants watched him, and read his
face and his ill-humors and fits of gloom, and discussed them in the
servants' hall. And while he thought himself quite secure from the
common herd, Thomas was telling Jane and the cook, and the butler, and
the housemaids and the other footmen that it was his opinion that “the
hold man was wuss than usual a-thinkin' hover the Capting's boy, an'
hanticipatin' as he won't be no credit to the fambly. An' serve him
right,” added Thomas; “hit's 'is hown fault. Wot can he iggspect from a
child brought up in pore circumstances in that there low Hamerica?”
And as the Reverend Mr. Mordaunt walked under the great trees, he
remembered that this questionable little boy had arrived at the Castle
only the evening before, and that there were nine chances to one that
his lordship's worst fears were realized, and twenty-two chances to one
that if the poor little fellow had disappointed him, the Earl was even
now in a tearing rage, and ready to vent all his rancor on the first
person who called--which it appeared probable would be his reverend
self.
Judge then of his amazement when, as Thomas opened the library door, his
ears were greeted by a delighted ring of childish laughter.
“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 foot on
it; and by him a small table and a game on it; and quite close to him,
actually leaning against his arm and his ungouty knee, was a little boy
with face glowing, and eyes dancing with excitement. “It's two out!” the
little stranger cried. “You hadn't any luck that time, had you?”--And
then they both recognized at once that some one had come in.
The Earl glanced around, knitting his shaggy eyebrows as he had a
trick of doing, and when he saw who it was, Mr. Mordaunt was still
more surprised to see that he looked even less disagreeable than usual
instead of more so. In fact, he looked almost as if he had forgotten for
the moment how disagreeable he was, and how unpleasant he really could
make himself when he tried.
“Ah!” he said, in his harsh voice, but giving his hand rather
graciously. “Good-morning, Mordaunt. I've found a new employment, you
see.”
He put his other hand on Cedric's shoulder,--perhaps deep down in his
heart there was a stir of gratified pride that it was such an heir he
had to present; there was a spark of something like pleasure in his eyes