Little Lord Fauntleroy
do. Mr. Hobbs said it would--if he could not get an entire volume
devoted to earls. 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 is called by some people Bloody Mary. And as Mr. Hobbs 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.
“Why, he aint safe!” he said. “He aint safe! If the women folks can
sit up on their thrones an' give the word for things like that to be
done, who's to know what's happening to him this very minute? He's no
more safe than nothing! Just let a woman like that get mad, an' no one's
safe!”
“Well,” said Dick, though he looked rather anxious himself; “ye see
this 'ere un isn't the one that's bossin' things now. I know her name's
Victory, an' this un here in the book, her name's Mary.”
“So it is,” said Mr. Hobbs, still mopping his forehead; “so it is. An'
the newspapers are not sayin' anything about any racks, thumb-screws,
or stake-burnin's,--but still it doesn't seem as if 't was safe for him
over there with those queer folks. Why, they tell me they don't keep the
Fourth o' July!”
He was privately uneasy for several days; and it was not until he
received Fauntleroy's letter and had read it several times, both to
himself and to Dick, and had also read the letter Dick got about the
same time, that he became composed again.
But they both found great pleasure in their letters. They read and
re-read 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 on pavements or walls or fences. He told Mr. Hobbs 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, “blest if he didn't go an'
marry a gal! Just went and got spoony an' hadn't any more sense left!
Married her, an' set up housekeepin' in two back rooms. An' a hefty un
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
'n' night! An' if I didn't have to 'tend it! an' when it screamed, she'd
fire things at me. She fired a plate at me one day, an' hit the baby--
cut its chin. Doctor said he'd carry the mark till he died. A nice
mother she was! Crackey! but didn't we have a time--Ben 'n' mehself 'n'
the young un. She was mad at Ben because he didn't make money faster;
'n' at last he went out West with a man to set up a cattle ranch. An'
hadn't been gone a week 'fore one night, I got home from sellin' my
papers, 'n' the rooms wus locked up 'n' empty, 'n' the woman o' the
house, she told me Minna 'd gone--shown a clean pair o' heels. Some un
else said she'd gone across the water to be nuss to a lady as had a
little baby, too. Never heard a word of her since--nuther has Ben. If
I'd ha' bin him, I wouldn't ha' fretted a bit--'n' I guess he didn't.
But he thought a heap o' her at the start. Tell you, he was spoons on
her. She was a daisy-lookin' gal, too, when she was dressed up 'n' not
mad. She'd big black eyes 'n' black hair down to her knees; she'd make
it into a rope as big as your arm, and twist it 'round 'n' 'round her
head; 'n' I tell you her eyes 'd snap! Folks used to say she was part
_I_tali-un--said her mother or father 'd come from there, 'n' it made
her queer. I tell ye, she was one of 'em--she was!”
He often told Mr. Hobbs 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. Hobbs.
“That gal,” said Dick one day, “she took all the grit out o' him. I
couldn't help feelin' sorry for him sometimes.”
They were sitting in the store door-way together, and Mr. Hobbs was
filling his pipe.
“He oughtn't to 've married,” he said solemnly, as he rose to get a
match. “Women--I never could see any use in 'em 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 noticin', 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 altogether. He went back to his chair quite excited
and took his pocket-knife and opened the envelope.
“I wonder what news there is this time,” he said.
And then he unfolded the letter and read as follows:
“DORINCOURT CASTLE” My dear Mr. Hobbs
“I write this in a great hury becaus i have something curous to tell you
i know you will be very mutch suprised my dear frend when i tel you. It
is all a mistake and i am not a lord and i shall not have to be an earl
there is a lady whitch was marid to my uncle bevis who is dead and she
has a little boy and he is lord fauntleroy becaus that is the way it is
in England the earls eldest sons little boy is the earl if every
body else is dead i mean if his farther and grandfarther are dead my
grandfarther is not dead but my uncle bevis is and so his boy is lord
Fauntleroy and i am not becaus my papa was the youngest son and my name
is Cedric Errol 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 grandfarther says i need not my grandfarther
is very sorry and i think he does not like the lady but preaps 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 thout i would at first becaus this is a
beautifle castle and i like every body so and when you are rich you can
do so many things i am not rich now becaus when your papa is only the
youngest son he is not very rich i am going to learn to work so that
i can take care of dearest i have been asking Wilkins about grooming
horses preaps i might be a groom or a coachman. The lady brought her
little boy to the castle and my grandfarther and Mr. Havisham talked to
her i think she was angry she talked loud and my grandfarther was angry
too i never saw him angry before i wish it did not make them all mad i
thort i would tell you and Dick right away becaus you would be intrusted
so no more at present with love from
“your old frend
“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 dumfounded 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 thing's bust up, hasn't it?”
“Bust!” said Mr. Hobbs. “It's my opinion it's a put-up job o' the
British ristycrats to rob him of his rights because he's an American.
They've had a spite agin us ever since the Revolution, an' they're
takin' it out on him. I told you he wasn't safe, an' see what's
happened! Like as not, the whole gover'ment's got together to rob him of
his lawful ownin's.”
He was very much agitated. He had not approved of 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 earls, 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 “To Let,” and smoking his pipe, in much disturbance of
mind.
XII
A very few days after the dinner party at the Castle, almost everybody
in England who read the newspapers at all knew the romantic story of
what had happened at Dorincourt. It made a very interesting story when
it was told with all the details. There was the little American boy who
had been brought to England to be Lord Fauntleroy, and who was said to
be so fine and handsome a little fellow, and to have already made people
fond of him; there was the old Earl, his grandfather, who was so proud
of his heir; there was the pretty young mother who had never been
forgiven for marrying Captain Errol; and there was the strange marriage
of Bevis, the dead Lord Fauntleroy, and the strange wife, of whom no one
knew anything, suddenly appearing with her son, and saying that he was
the real Lord Fauntleroy and must have his rights. All these things were
talked about and written about, and caused a tremendous sensation. And
then there came the rumor that the Earl of Dorincourt was not satisfied
with the turn affairs had taken, and would perhaps contest the claim by
law, and the matter might end with a wonderful trial.
There never had been such excitement before in the county in which
Erleboro was situated. On market-days, people stood in groups and talked
and wondered what would be done; the farmers' wives invited one another
to tea that they might tell one another all they had heard and all
they thought and all they thought other people thought. They related
wonderful anecdotes about the Earl's rage and his determination not to
acknowledge the new Lord Fauntleroy, and his hatred of the woman who was
the claimant's mother. But, of course, it was Mrs. Dibble who could tell
the most, and who was more in demand than ever.
“An' a bad lookout it is,” she said. “An' if you were to ask me, ma'am,
I should say as it was a judgment on him for the way he's treated that
sweet young cre'tur' as he parted from her child,--for he's got that
fond of him an' that set on him an' that proud of him as he's a'most
drove mad by what's happened. An' what's more, this new one's no lady,
as his little lordship's ma is. She's a bold-faced, black-eyed thing,
as Mr. Thomas says no gentleman in livery 'u'd bemean hisself to be gave
orders by; and let her come into the house, he says, an' he goes out of
it. An' the boy don't no more compare with the other one than nothin'
you could mention. An' mercy knows what's goin' to come of it all, an'